An ordinary guy plans to spend his birthday with his family, friends, and loved ones.
Yes, I had friends, but still, the feeling of loneliness never left me. It seems like these feelings will never leave me. I'll always be searching, waiting for something more.
No one even suspects how over the years I've had to build my circle piece by piece, taking small steps toward my goal — to be happy, not to be lonely. But this circle, this community — it's fragile, like it could be shattered into a million pieces by the slightest touch or even an unintended mistake. That constant fear of losing even the little I have never goes away.
I don't wake up in a good mood. That's how it is every morning, every year. Especially on this day, I reflect, overthink, reevaluate, and make conclusions about the past year, making plans for the future. These conclusions aren't always correct, but they help me at least keep going, moving forward, and developing. Not losing my way, growing as a person.
On that day, fifteen years ago — the day I opened my eyes to the world. The day my mom and dad first hugged me. A day I've forgotten, but one I've needed for the past ten years.
All these years, up until this day, and even after, deep down I've always feared disappointing my father, becoming a nobody. I don't know why, but I took on this heavy burden. Probably, anyone else in my place would have said "screw it" and lived however they wanted, not thinking about the future, living for today.
But not me. It felt like, even though my dad was no longer with me, he was still watching, praising me, scolding me for mistakes, giving me strength, guiding me in the right direction, not letting my spirit fall. No, I wasn't deeply religious, but somewhere deep inside I still wanted to believe in the afterlife, in cosmic justice, in something bright, in my guardian angel.
Maybe it will seem like I've lost my mind, but every morning, before school, while making breakfast, I would talk to myself, imagining that my dad was sitting next to me. I'd tell him what was bothering me, what made me happy, share my plans. And he, listening attentively, would nod and support me in everything. Maybe this is just muscle memory, remembering how as a child my dad would feed me in the mornings and tell me interesting stories.
My birthday wasn't any different from yesterday or this morning. I talked to my dad, shared my thoughts, fears, hopes, apologized for the things I couldn't change, for the things I couldn't get back, and asked for his help and advice. Sometimes he would respond, other times he'd just quietly watch me.
I was so afraid of forgetting what he looked like. The fear of losing that one thing I had — these morning talks, his love — kept me on track. Even to this day, it keeps me grounded. Although I've made many mistakes, I tried and still try to be honest with myself, and those conversations with my dad help me with that, help keep me from losing my mind. I know it's not really my father, just an image in my head, but still, every morning, I forced myself to believe in the truth I needed. It gave me hope, made life less scary and lonely, filled it with warmth and comfort.
In the mornings, I had a real family.
Sometimes I would watch as other families gathered around the holiday table, and I had no one. And even if I spent the holiday with someone, I always felt like I didn't belong, uncomfortable — it was very sad.
I tried to push all the negative thoughts aside on my birthday. After all, it was my day, the day I should have been happy, even if it didn't feel that way.
I didn't have a phone, and the landline was disconnected due to debts. Buying a mobile phone was a luxury. Because of this, I couldn't call and invite my friends over to celebrate my birthday. I couldn't even arrange a meeting. It was like the dark ages — I had to look for the people I needed the old-fashioned way — going to them directly. But even that wasn't easy. I was always nervous — what if I'm bothering them? What if I'm annoying? What if I show up at the wrong time?
Besides, money was needed. I needed to make arrangements with a restaurant, buy food, pay the waiters. Even if I celebrated at home, money was still required. And everything I earned went toward living expenses, travel, and food.
On that day, I didn't let it upset me. I was used to it — after all, disappointment was my second half.
I had breakfast, talked to my dad, and calmly headed to school. Of course, I first looked for Raul, but couldn't find him. He was nowhere to be found. "He probably forgot," I thought. "It's okay, I'm used to it," — I tried to calm myself down.
Yes, I admit, I was a little upset, but I didn't let it bother me. I made excuses for him. In school, no one remembered my birthday. Why would they? I wasn't a star for them to look for.
After school, I went to my drama class. No one congratulated me there either. Though I knew the teacher had the list of birthdays. And again, I tried to calm myself down. Yes, I admit, no matter how much I tried to comfort myself, to understand, forgive, and say all the things psychologists tell you, it still made me feel worse and worse with every moment. I was on the edge.
I couldn't concentrate, forgot my lines. And when I couldn't get it right, I yelled at myself. It was probably a breakdown. Things were so bad that the art teacher told me to sit down and just observe for today. Oh, how angry I got at that, how much angrier I became!
I've always been a spectator. I don't want to be one anymore. No one congratulated me today. Was it really so hard to wish me a happy birthday? Was I really that much of a nobody in their eyes? — I thought to myself.
But despite my anger, I tried to calm myself down.
At that point, in drama class, I got the lead role. I thought, well, that's it, I've won. But no, it didn't turn out that way. As much of a jerk as I was in their eyes, that's how I remained... I was furious...
A few weeks before my birthday, my drama teacher decided to stage Our Town and gave me the role of George Gibbs. I don't know why. Although… I do know. She probably felt sorry for me.
What can I say about Gibbs? This character seemed so naive and bright to me. A child who grew up little by little — not like me!
Of course, not like me, because I lived in lies, hiding that I was alone, afraid that one day they would come, take me away, and send me to an orphanage. Or worse, they would sell my kidneys and other organs on the black market. Thoughts like that crowded my mind...
And that's not strange, because the last words my mom said to me are forever etched in my memory, never giving me peace. I couldn't let anyone take away what was mine — my freedom!
So, after rehearsal, I went to work for Uncle Em. When I approached the door, I saw a sign that said "Closed." But through the window, I noticed Uncle Em walking around the place, while Mars was standing nearby, both of them nervously glancing around. I entered the café, and Uncle Em yelled at me: "Where have you been? Quickly to the kitchen, wash the dishes!"
But I didn't say anything, just lowered my head and went into the kitchen, holding back tears.
But when I entered, I couldn't believe my eyes.
Suddenly, everyone popped their heads out from under the table, behind walls — and loudly yelled:
— Surprise! Happy birthday!
Everyone was there! Uncle David, Raul, and behind me were Uncle Em, Mars, my classmates, and the drama class crew. Everyone I knew.
They all started singing "Happy Birthday."
Uncle Em dragged me to the table, and I blew out the candles. There were 15 of them.
I had spent the whole day upset, thinking everyone had forgotten. Well, I'm such a fool, I thought to myself.
At that moment, Raul, Mars, and the guys from class hugged me. Even the art teacher was there.
Then Uncle David came up to me and hugged me, handing me a box with a phone inside.
It was the best gift of my life. All of it. And I finally had my own phone. It wasn't expensive, but it was mine.
From that moment on, I froze. That had never happened to me before.
And involuntarily, tears started to flow.
The first tears, tears of joy, in so many years.