Today is my birthday.
Today is supposed to be a happy day for me, yet everything that's happening today is contradictory to happiness. Today is my birthday, yet I feel empty and sad. Is this what they called Birthday Blues?
Today, I woke up with a heavy heart again—seems worse than the normal days. Today's supposed to be a happy day, yet I can't even lift a finger to stand up and face the world. It's like there's a heavy cloud hanging over me, casting a shadow on what should be a day of celebration. The weight of sadness and heaviness I feel makes it difficult to find the strength to even lift myself out of bed. The thought of mustering a smile or acknowledging the occasion feels like an impossible task.
I can't even greet myself a happy birthday nor even thank myself that I made it here. I didn't even remember that today was my birthday until I saw the calendar on the side of my bed where the 10th day of July was encircled.
It's as if the world is moving at a different pace, and I'm stuck in slow motion, unable to keep up with the expectations of joy and glee that surround birthdays. The exhaustion and melancholy seem to drown me, leaving me feeling isolated and detached from the world around me.
Reflecting on my past birthdays, each one seemed to blend into the next, a seamless continuation of the same cycle of emotions and experiences. Year after year of hopelessness, dissatisfaction, and melancholy.
Questions started popping inside my head—will this be my last birthday? Will this be the last year of my own pain? Will this be the last year of my sufferings? A lot of things were inside my head and I've done nothing for the half of my birthday but to just stare at the window beside my bed. Unusually, I'm seeing the world more in black. As if everything lost its life in my eyes.
Each birthday passed in a blur of inactivity, a day spent in the confines of my room, lost in a haze of reflection and stagnation. The world outside moved on, bustling with life and energy, while I remained enveloped in my own stillness, cocooned in a cycle of apathy and listlessness.
And so, another birthday passed in silence, a day marked not by celebration or joy, but by the heavy weight of missed opportunities and unfulfilled potential. The echoes of past birthdays whispered in the recesses of my mind, a reminder of the passage of time and the urgency of the present. Yet, here I remained, a spectator in my own life, watching as the world moved on without me, a silent observer of my own stagnation.
