Somehow, that feels too desperate, too much like asking for attention. So, I sit with the quiet, trying to convince myself that it doesn’t matter.
Afternoon turns to evening, and still, my phone remains silent. I go for a walk, trying to shake the feeling of disappointment. The streets are calm, the sky soft with the golden hues of the setting sun. I remind myself that birthdays are just another day, that I don’t need validation to feel special.
Just as I return home, my phone buzzes. It’s a simple message from a friend: “Hey! Almost missed it, but happy birthday!” I smile, a wave of relief washing over me. Then another notification pops up, and another—a few late but heartfelt birthday wishes start to trickle in.
It’s not the flood of messages I had hoped for, but somehow, it’s enough. I realize that while I spent the day waiting for others to celebrate me, I forgot that I could celebrate myself. And with that thought, I decide to treat myself to a quiet evening—just me, a slice of cake, and the knowledge that even a few words can brighten the day.