Pre-Birthday Confessions

THE cruelest person anybody can be to a person is the person itself.

Especially when one denies oneself of any happiness.

Putting that aside, that’s not really what I intended to say anyway. I have a confession and it goes like this:

            I keep waiting for a surprise.

But I guess in a way, that defeats the effects of a surprise, considering I keep anticipating it. But that also means it takes a really well-planned and unexpected surprise to actually surprise me. So it’s not impossible. Just very, very hard. Because you see, I’m not an easily-surprised person.

I’m a person who thinks a lot, with a highly active and imaginative mind. Every chance I get, I drift into Imagination Land, even in the most inconvenient times: in class, when I’m revising for class tests, when I’m revising for school exams, when I’m revising for my A’ Levels, during the exam itself – the list goes on. Sometimes I wonder if I have ADHD, but I’d think that’s just an excuse for two other dire sicknesses of mine, namely Laziness and Procrastination. But seriously, I wonder if it’s common for person to be SO DAMN EASILY DISTRACTED all the time. You cannot completely get it, but sometimes it gets very critical.

I’m straying again. Anyways.

My birthday is looming.

(Note connotation of above word choice.)

I’ve had some unexpected, undesirable and unpleasant events unfolding in my last few birthdays, to which I shall not disclose here in fear of it becoming a rant, but if it shall interest anybody, you need only to ask. Thus, I have grown to dislike birthdays. Well, not really birthdays, just my birthdays. I love my friends’ birthdays actually.

It is therefore why I have expressed my disinterest in celebrating my birthdays in the last few years, and often I have to be really stern on them. On occasion, I think I come across as bratty. On some others, I just sound emo. But I hurt myself even more every time I deny a celebration or hangout.

Truth is, I’m a goddamn hypocrite - which connotes that I WANT to celebrate my birthdays.

Due to my past experiences pre/on my birthdays and on many other normal days, I’ve always felt like I do not matter. Humans are social creatures. Being the social creatures we are, it is a common norm for us to desire to be showered with love and care and attention. And it’s the same case for me.

Like I said (though with no further elaboration) due to my past experiences, I’ve never felt that I was that important. Even among my close group of friends, I never felt like the top pick. Sometimes, I feel like a spare tyre. Often, I don’t feel like I’m significant enough to deserve more attention and love. Let me give you an example, though here’s a fair warning for you: I’m horrid at giving examples as I ramble on. (You’ve been warned)

You know how there are some people who have friends that go through great lengths to throw them a surprise party? Well, I’m never that lucky friend. I’m more of the person on the sidelines of the celebrations who has been invited along to make that fortunate person happy. A recent example is earlier this year when me and my beloved Alibabanana tried to surprise another dear friend of mine called Rubbish Bag on her birthday. We and our other friends did a lot to surprise her, (even though it sorta failed but I’d say we were 75% successful nonetheless). Me and Alibaba invited her out to a movie hangout to celebrate her sweet 19^th, not telling her that we have a huge bunch of friends waiting to jump out at her at the toilets HAHAHAHA. Sadly, she somewhat suspected it (she’s a goddamn genius this girl) but nevertheless she was ecstatic because her friends had made such a big effort to surprise her. But what she didn’t expect was that I made a pageant-like sash for her, with which we surprised her with it out of the blue during our post-movie meal, together with a tiara and a scepter, oh and a cake. We made her princess of the day.

I was so so happy that we made her happy. And I was happier for her, that she is so so blessed to have friends who would go through great lengths to make her day a truly memorable one, to make her FEEL like a princess, so loved, showered with attention.

However, I cannot deny that my genuine happiness is tinged with a sad envy.

(To any reader who finds my writing style redundantly more poetic than prosaic due to my high usage of oxymorons and juxtapositions and tautology etc. and you don’t like it I’m really sorry I cannot help it I’m actually very agitated right now)

Ending my example here, I’m trying to illustrate this point: I’m never THAT friend. That blessed little goose that people will go all out to make her big day a special and unforgettable one. And because I’m jealous, so jealous, and I crave love, I crave attention, and I have expectations, expectations often high and improbable.  I guess I just hit the nail on the head.

I ALWAYS have expectations.

And when one always has expectations, one will always have a difficult time being satisfied.

Well this year it’s not like my friends did nothing. They did give some effort though. They just straightforwardly asked me to a hangout on my birthday. They could always surprise me with something unexpected at the hangout then, just like how I did with my Rubbish Bag’s “princess coronation”, right?

But I denied showing up.

I don’t know why I did it I REALLY DON’T. I have some many different reasons going around in my head but I just couldn’t decide which IS “IT”. Is it to prove my point and insistence at never celebrating it? Is it because the memories of my past birthdays still sting? Or is it because I believe that THEY COULD SO MUCH MORE AND SO MUCH BETTER? OR IS IT BECAUSE I WANT TO BE COMPLETELY SURPRISED, I WANT THEM TO JUST SHOW UP AT MY HOUSE AND SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF ME, LEAVING ME IN TEARS AT THE MOST UNFORGETTABLE BIRTHDAY EVER?

I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I DON’T KNOW IT COULD EVEN BE EVERYTHING. And I just cant help but feel that if they can plan such big surprises for other people, why can’t they do the same FOR ME? Am I any less special. Oh, so that’s it isn’t it? I’m just not THAT SPECIAL.

I want to be showered in love and attention. I want to feel and be treated like a princess. I don’t want to be just that friend whom you feel obliged to celebrate her bornday with all for the sake of camaraderie.

And I’m just so so sad. I’m so sad that I’m doing this TO MYSELF. There is only so much I can blame my friends for. Worst is, I blame them, for not fulfilling MY expectations. So really, it’s MY fault. My friends aren’t torturing me, I’m torturing myself.

Everybody has a choice to some extent.

I chose all this. I chose my sadness. I chose it out of stubbornness. I chose it because I hurt. I chose it because I have expectations.  And most of all, another truth deep deep down in my chest buried deep is, I chose it because I feel I am undeserving.

Because the cruelest person to me is myself.

Because I deny myself of any happiness.

And if you count, that makes two confessions in this post. Sorry I lied.

How about you? Do you love yourself more than I do me? What is the cruelest thing you’ve ever done to yourself?