Small things

Another day closer to my twenty-first. A week before, we were making plans to head down to USS tomorrow. I was ready to get over my... I wouldn't say fear but my not wanting to ride the Cyclone/Human rollercoasters. For you.

On Tuesday, for the first time in my job someone asked me for my name. I've always been so passionate in work and once, it was the one thing in life I still looked forward to. The only thing I found reason to get up in the mornings for. But my name wasn't asked for a compliment. It was for a complaint that wasn't even my fault. I wasn't even rude; he was the one jabbing his finger into my face as I was serving him, and when I walked away, he said it was my service that's the problem.

You came over to have dinner with me that day. I told you everything. I told you I didn't cry. But that incident never even left my mind since.

I thought I'd felt better after seeing you. And then you told me that you couldn't take leave for my birthday. Because there weren't enough staff in the office due to the ones being dispatched for the F1 weekend having their day off on the Monday. Why couldn't you have requested for leave earlier? You explained, but I'm still angry about it, because you're right, I don't understand.

But I'm not the only one who doesn't understand. I've showed my anger to you, and you've snapped, "Why can't you understand I'm working?"; you've said in caps lock, "YOU GET WORKED UP OVER THE SMALLEST THINGS."

I know it's a small thing to you. In case you haven't noticed from the time we've started dating, from the time you read all my blog posts everyday, from the time you realised I get upset easily; it's not a small thing to me.

I know what small things are.

It's when I don't get a seat by the window because the person before me took the last available one.

It's when somebody is standing right in the middle of the path and I'm forced to walk on the grass to get past.

It's when I've been standing by the counter of a food stall for a while and nobody comes out to take my order.

It's when I stand up to offer my seat to an old woman on the train but somebody else already gave up theirs first.

It's when a customer doesn't say thank you.

It's when a pretty girl posts a picture of herself and gets 170 likes.

It's when you post a picture of yourself and everybody comments on how handsome you are.

It's when I post a picture of myself and get just 30 likes.

It's when we've made plans for a Saturday and on the morning itself you say you're too tired to go out anymore.

It's when you told me we'll use your free tickets to catch a movie but instead you use them on yourself and your best friend.

I know these are little things. But it doesn't stop them from affecting me so much, because it's the tiniest things that trigger me. At this point of my life every single little thing is like a hard shove. What I don't understand is why can't you understand this?

Here's the thing, I know it's unimportant to you. I know it's nothing to you. But get it into your head that it isn't to me. It's my special day which I don't even get to spend with you. Which I'm forced to spend alone because I don't have any other friends to ask out instead; because my mom says on birthdays, family is reserved for the night only, whatever.

I'll never get why you can't understand this one simple thing. Our four years together, you've spent just one of my birthdays with me. Yes it is a big fucking deal to me that you didn't apply for leave earlier for me this year. Big enough a deal for me to cry like a maniac on the train thinking about it.

No matter what you think, my twenty-first isn't a small thing. You not going out with me for my birthday isn't a small thing. It's the one fucking day in the year I'll feel special enough to wear something other than my usual jeans out of my own accord. Not the 18th, or 20th, or 21st, but just this one day: the 19th.

I hate birthdays again

I don't want a birthday party. Especially not one where I don't have any friends to take pictures with between those huge '2' and '1' balloons. How do I feel special in the presence of my dad's siblings and my mom's friends, and my cousins that I haven't talked to in like 4 years?

Yes, my mom invited her friends with the excuse of "They invited me to their children's birthdays, I'll invite them to mine." MOM WHAT THE FUCK. YOUR FRIENDS ARE ALL 20+. THEIR KIDS ARE LIKE FREAKING FIVE. WHAT THE FUCK.

What's worse is she's expecting me to pay 300 bucks for her to buy the food and decorations and shit. Why???? IT'S A PARTY FOR ME WHICH I DON'T EVEN WANT AND I HAVE TO PAY FOR IT????

I DON'T WANT THIS! I don't have any real friends to spend it with. A girl only has the rights to have their 21st birthday to be fucking special if she has friends. Real girl friends who actually buy her presents and invite her out. And only if she's ... pretty enough ... to wear nice clothes... I FUCKING DON'T WANT THIS.

Every birthday has been a disaster in their own special ways. This year's, I'll have to spend alone because somebody didn't take leave earlier and he can't apply now. Thanks a lot. "Consider it done" you dare say.

Fucking awful. I fucking hate birthdays. Why must my mom and grandma make such a big fucking deal about my 21st? Guess what, my dad and the only cousin that I still care about aren't gonna be around because of the stupid F1 anyway. My 21st sucks already. That's the only big deal about it. THAT IT FUCKING SUCKS.