My friends either did not know that my birthday was on the 17th of June or they forgot. I don’t blame them for that. Everyone must be busy, that’s all. But I don’t know, It hurts so much. Even my relatives forgot my birthday - they’re the only ones to greet me since I don’t have close friends or friends - just acquaintances.

I was really looking forward that someone would greet a happy birthday. They made me care about birthdays. Because everyone seems to be happy. But it’s the same experience. The same ordeal that I’ve gone through most of my life.

I know their birthdates. I know them because I care about them. That’s why I know them. Because they are dear to my heart. This is my first interaction with the outside world since exiting a cult that robbed me of my childhood. Leaving me slow in comprehending the real world. Because they were busy fencing my life.

But that’s OK, it’s just a birthday. They’re busy. They have their own life. They have their shit together. I think I’m just envious of them. They get greetings all the time.

Anyhoo, that’s something I am pondering on.