My mumma texted me at 6:45 in the morning. Happy Birthday mija I luv you and I miss you y te queremos mucho. She said. No, wait. She wrote. It was an electronic message. Where nothing could probably even touch my heart. No voice to tell me love. no words were to touch me. No caressing of the heart. The comal was cold. it was sunny and I was alone.
Get chocolate wasted, happy birthday he typed. he typed. He
Birthdays? What are they? Why so much pump and circumstance. Why so much celebration. Nothing to celebrate when you have accomplished nothing this year. The two people. Two people mattered, yet were muted. were constricted to that device that could not with the most beautiful and curving words move me to feel anything. Not even the hearts or the smileys that are are shaped into symbolic love could make feel like I mattered. So as usual, this day affirms to me, that birthdays are insignificant. If they did matter, does that mean I don't matter? I refuse. I refuse. Even if to me I am the only who I matter to, who remembers. If it's only I the one who cares. Because an electronic message doesn't convey anything. It conveys, I have to write, but I do not care to love. I do not care to love. I do not care. I am to lazy. I am too busy. I am too. I am. Not you. Perhaps guilty of this myself, once or twice or more.
So i've chosen. I've decided. Birthdays do not matter. I don't care to tell anyone my birthday. I don't care to tell anyone when my birthday is.
I never cared to tell anyone.
Someone call my Ama, mi mama, my mum. Someone tell her that yesterday her daughter was born. Someone tell her that no one called. Someone tell her she forgot. I never cared to tell anyone. Oh, I forgot. I'm not supposed to care that she didn't call. The only one. The only i cared to have a feliz cumpleaños from. the only one of two. Im not supposed to care. I'm not. Im. not. I forgot. Perdón, Ama.
Get chocolate wasted, happy birthday he typed. he typed. He
Birthdays? What are they? Why so much pump and circumstance. Why so much celebration. Nothing to celebrate when you have accomplished nothing this year. The two people. Two people mattered, yet were muted. were constricted to that device that could not with the most beautiful and curving words move me to feel anything. Not even the hearts or the smileys that are are shaped into symbolic love could make feel like I mattered. So as usual, this day affirms to me, that birthdays are insignificant. If they did matter, does that mean I don't matter? I refuse. I refuse. Even if to me I am the only who I matter to, who remembers. If it's only I the one who cares. Because an electronic message doesn't convey anything. It conveys, I have to write, but I do not care to love. I do not care to love. I do not care. I am to lazy. I am too busy. I am too. I am. Not you. Perhaps guilty of this myself, once or twice or more.
So i've chosen. I've decided. Birthdays do not matter. I don't care to tell anyone my birthday. I don't care to tell anyone when my birthday is.
I never cared to tell anyone.
Someone call my Ama, mi mama, my mum. Someone tell her that yesterday her daughter was born. Someone tell her that no one called. Someone tell her she forgot. I never cared to tell anyone. Oh, I forgot. I'm not supposed to care that she didn't call. The only one. The only i cared to have a feliz cumpleaños from. the only one of two. Im not supposed to care. I'm not. Im. not. I forgot. Perdón, Ama.
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