My Birthday Eve

CROSSPOST FROM Shibuya

Well, it’s official – today is My Birthday Eve. Pay out, PayPerPost, I’d like a cake, lol. I know, I know, it’s sad that I’ve got to buy my own birthday cake – but it’s something I chose to do, and I’m a damn good baker so I could, technically, bake my own if I wanted to but I want to buy a nine dollar ice cream cake. It’s generic, but it’s good – strawberry shortcake with white chocolate decoration on the top and berry cream ice cream. I’m too old to be obsessing over cake, lol. But, I’m of the mind that I’d like one decent birthday, and this is the first year I’ve had in twenty years that I haven’t had to share ( meaning give ) my celebration to my stepdad. The awful jackass.

See, his birthday was the day before mine so I’d get a piece of cake but I couldn’t blow out the candles, he’d get the cards, he’d get the presents, he’d get pampered and I was expected to be one of the people who did the pampering. I can’t tell you how many times I was the one who baked his cake, bought him presents, made him dinner, cleaned up after him – because my birthday didn’t matter. I know it’s kind of childish to whine about it now, since most people consider birthdays to be something that only children get excited about, but I spent my birthdays until I was seventeen being silently envious and hurt by it. In fact he dominated my mother and Laota‘s birthday celebrations, too, and Christmas, Thanksgiving, Mother’s and Father’s days, school events, church events – if there was attention to be paid, he wanted it paid to him and no one else. He was like a vicious, jealous, mean child and he’d get violent if he didn’t get what he wanted, when he wanted.

After a certain point in my life, though, I think I just accepted it and fell into a life of mundane repetition – no opinions, no backtalk, no promise of a better life. And awful as it is to say, in the months that he’s been gone my life has taken an upswing – it’s not a good life, I’m still landlocked and holding down four jobs with literally almost no pay ( we’re talking maybe $200 a month, if that ), and were it not for PayPerPost, I’d literally have nothing. At least I can afford a cake this year, and, for once, it’s happy birthday to me.

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