Eighteen

"Happy birthday Foo!" My friend yells at the top of his voice. I roll my eyes and try not to smile for the people. A small grin appears and at the involuntary coaxing due to a hug, I smile a little bit more. And then when its over, it fades away again. My smile is gone, the moments are gone, the memory is there partially. I walk in the hallways and look at the people, crowding the floor as they scatter from class to class. Grains of sand in a giant hourglass. I pass a shadow in the hallway, it smiles and I smile back. It's caught within the blink of an eye and then fades into emotion. I continue on. The smile makes a quick cameo for the people and then disappears just as it appeared. I return home to nothing. A cold, encroaching room. Four walls of the same spot that I've been in for the majority of my life. It grows smaller each day, as the house begins to warp into a new image. Bits and pieces of life are lost.

Phone calls and messages begin to appear. The same words flicker. "Happy birthday", "Have a great day". They are followed by added words. "Can you cover this for me?" "We are too busy today but our thoughts are with you" Nothing comes out of it. I have not changed my position on the issue in 18 years. I was taught that this holiday was wrong, self-absorbing, that only negative things come out of it. Each year I lie to myself that things will be better. Each year the lie becomes weaker and weaker. I sit at my desk and think as I type. I know that the next moves will follow in the same routine as the last. I walk outside and breath in the cold air. The music trembles inside my ears, forcing a step forward. The small steps turn into a fast walk, beating to the tune of the man singing. I remember what last year was like. And the year before that. The faces remain the same. My face and thoughts have not changed. Each year I am told to be happy on this day. Each year the words fall on deaf ears.