Here's my cake.
The two friends who actually showed up for my party wouldn't let me eat it as is.
They made me cut it.
Here's the inside.
When 12 of the 14 people called on the day of the party to say they couldn't show up, at first I thought, "Woohoo! More cake for me!"
But it's a hell of a lot of cake to eat all alone.
... alone ...
I've been giving away a lot of it, and I've learned my lesson, yet again.
15 years ago, I told myself I would never celebrate my birthday again, because people don't show up.
When they don't show up, I get let down.
I would get so hurt, because I felt I wasn't important/loveable/popular enough for my close friends to give a shit to come celebrate my life.
This round, I know I'm loved, but the cosmos just do not allow me to honour my life by way of a gathering of loved ones.
I guess being gathered by people I love is just never going to be in the cards for me. Every time I'd be left alone on past birthdays, I would spend my whole day crying, wondering why I'm not good enough for the people I'm close to to show up.
Granted, this time, every single person had a good reason for not being there, but it still didn't take away from the fact that it hurt that everyone but two bailed on my day.
Of course, My Gratitude Buddy showed up later on just to be here on my day, even if it wasn't for the party. I can always count on her and the other two that showed up.
Even on my actual birthday yesterday, only one person called me.
Here's ironic for you; it was my mother.
I spent the day wishing I never said I'd celebrate. I spent the day wondering what the fuck is wrong with me?
... i spent the day crying and admitting to someone about how on my birthday, every year, i secretly wish i was dead and i hide from the world... shhh ... don't tell anyone ...
Being left alone this time around is different. I know they love me. It's just that I went against my better judgement and thought that people would actually show up because it is my last birthday here in Vancouver.
Didn't matter. People got sick or whatever and again, yet again, my heart was broken.
I spent $350 on steak, salmon, cake enough to feed an army, alcohol for my drinking friends/family and the list goes on.
I could've used that for the bills that are screaming at me.
I'm pretty much just going to cancel my week, eat cake and cry the sugar out of every pore in my body. I haven't actually stopped crying since My Gratitude Buddy left late Sunday evening.
And people always ask me, "Why don't you ever celebrate your birthday?"
Well, when even the closest loving people in my life are somehow energetically stopped from coming, there's just no fucking point.
You can bet I won't be bothering with a 'leaving the country party'.
Nobody will show up.
I'll just go away quietly and build a new life with Papi. I can always count on Papi to make my day wonderful.
And to give me clonazepam to stop the tears.
if you keep doing what you're doing, you'll keep getting what you're getting