31

As a child, we learn to define occasions in terms of gifts. Christmas was bombarded with reminders about giving and of course, the reaction was inevitable: expectations and anticipation. Not that it is a bad thing.  Gift-giving became a symbol of sacrifice, apology and appreciation. We want to make someone feel good.

Altruism is human nature. Selfish even. The receiver feels heavenly; BUT the giver, in that moment feels like God.  It’s a win-win situation, if you ask me.

Two nights ago, in a very uncharacteristic move, my mom admitted to her inability to provide us with what we want while I was growing up.  Broken promises were a common theme. That explains a lot why I would go berserk over the tiniest detail about cancelling plans and breaking promises. I shrugged off her admission like it was a tiny thing. But it was generally a heavy cross. When you are a kid, you only expect the best things, without much reason.  But such is the story of my life:

I always get what I don’t want.

I am adult enough to accept that gifts don’t define happiness, but it does give you the needed sense of importance. You won’t see people crying over you in your funeral so this is the closest to a statistic (about people who cares) that you can get.

Why am I whining?

I have been blessed with a beautiful girlfriend, a newly-released album and a new job that I enjoy doing.  This year started well, more than I have expected and I am thankful. I honestly am.

But that advice about counting my blessings has been exhausted and over-used.

I have been trying to verbalize what drives people to experience birthday blues. I am not an exception, and friends know it. Is it just about gifts? I think it may have something to do with existential questions but that’s me trying to be deep. 

But to feed your curiosity my dear readers, these are the usual queries: Why am I still here? Do I deserve another year? Why stay when people don’t care?

I honestly don’t know how to end this blog.

Maybe just an admission of my shallowness.

But are you really righteous enough to point that out without looking at your own expectations and wants?

My blues remains. 31 years and counting.