A friend said to me once that birthdays were just another day. And I agree.
Well, almost.
When birthdays come for me, I often wonder what all the fuss is about. Other people want to celebrate it more than I do:
“What are you doing for your birthday man? We should go celebrate! Waaaaay!”
“Are you celebrating your birthday this year? What are you planning to do?”
“Got any plans Sai?”
Everytime I do celebrate, it’s always at least mildly interesting. But everytime I do nothing, something always gnaws at the back of my mind, no matter how much I decide that it’s going to be a normal day:
“Yay. I’m 24. Ok, birthday celebrations are over; time to watch some porn.
“Hmm…should I do something tonight? I mean, there still is time…naaah, can’t be bothered.
“There still is time, you know. Maybe a quick birthday drink? No, wait, it’s going to just be another day fending off drunken pandas…”
And so on. By the day’s end, there is a uneasy regret that I really should’ve done something to celebrate.
This need to celebrate comes from a number of things. First, I have a lack of friends, full stop. Second, I have a lack of friends I see on a regular basis. Third, it would just be nice for once if someone else planned my birthday instead of myself.*
It’s hypocritical, I know. I want the day to be a normal day so I don’t have to deal with disappointment and regret but if I do nothing then I have to deal with disappointment and regret. I want my cake and I damn well want to eat it.
So for now, it’s an uneasy truce. I’ll continue to celebrate any birthdays that come my way, but I do it ironically. Oh yeah. 
*Yes, a birthday was planned for me once, sort of. It was very last minute and it went catastrophically bad because that day I really, really, really didn’t want to celebrate it. I had a few arguments. The atmosphere was tense. I no longer speak to those friends. (not because of that day, but for other reasons, I think…?)
