The Grouch’s Birthday

I’m not that big on birthdays and I’ve said that a lot. I’m usually not a pessimist, but on my birthday, I somehow always expect for the worst. I guess I just hate growing old so much that I’m such a grouch when June 2’s just around the corner.

Surprisingly, though, no matter how crappy I feel or how bad my day started, my birthday always ends on a good note.

I guess when you’re surrounded by people you love who strive hard to make this day extra special, you have no choice but to be happy. I turned off my birthday notification on Facebook and prohibited anyone from greeting me on my Facebook wall. I think I did that to see who will remember and who will make an extra effort (by texting! haha) just to greet me. It’s my own way of subtly seeking for attention. And it worked and I’m happy. So thank you for remembering.

It feels silly to still have a little party like this and to have my big and small cousins surround me while singing the birthday song. But I think it’s such a nice way to celebrate my birthday.

I thank my family for making such a fuss over my birthday even though I spend the entire day being all sulky. Thank you for the unconditional love. And I thank my ate for the pair of flats. Hee.

Alex travelled four hours just to be there and I don’t think I can thank him enough.

I thank my cousins and grandparents and tito’s and tita’s who keep complimenting me and saying they were doing it because it’s my birthday. Thank you for the pambobola, it really made my round face beam. Haha. I’m just a bit sad since half of my cousins are thousands of miles away. But still.

Thank you for all the messages I received on Facebook and the mentions on Twitter. I’m sorry for being such a brat and for craving for attention. I promise to be a better friend. Hehe. Thank you for those people who greeted me on midnight. Thank you to those who called. Thank you to those who texted. I’m thankful even to those who greeted me late. Thank you for remembering and for making me feel loved. 🙂

Thank you for making me realize that I should probably start growing up and appreciating life a bit more. I don’t think my 22-year-old self is already a much better than the 21-year-old version. It takes some time to mature and I promise I will. Maybe next year. Haha.