"Can I kiss you?"

And then I grew up. And I thought... now, now it'll be about me. And I think I've just realized it's not about it being about me. It's mattering? People remembering? But most never do.

My youngest brother? Forgot. Doesn't care. God knows. Can't get a response out of him no matter how hard I try.

People I'm very close to? Forgot.

That's not to say that I do not appreciate the people who DID remember. I think I appreciate them ten times over.

But there's a little girl inside of me who wants that acknowledgement from very specific people. To proof they care. And that's probably really wrong. And every year I think, "Just don't give a shit. Be appreciative of what you get. Focus on the good." And every year, when I go to bed, I am sad.

Because I will remember your birthday. At midnight. During your day. I will buy you presents. Send you cards. I will throw you a goddamn birthday party if I know you like that stuff.

And you forgot about me.

HERES YOUR CAKE

And you know what? I believe that she believes it.