An Open Letter

I’m going on a walk at work to my crying spot again. This week has been back to back to back friend birthdays. I just had a birthday lunch with G, and at one point she started asking everyone what their favorite present they’ve received was. It was already hard enough watching everyone talk about different stuff before this but this felt like an execution. I kept thinking and the only two things that came to my mind were the league of legends gift cards I got when I had my first birthday party around 16, and then the cake my exes family made for me on thanksgiving for my birthday. Both of my friends got cakes at work, and I remember I got nothing. I don’t even remember if I got happy birthday texts. M talked about how for she didn’t like her birthday and she tries to disappear for it. I related. And then she said it was because of all the attention and celebrations felt like too much. She talked about how her parents remind her when her bday is coming up because she forgot, and I had to keep looking away to try to avoid crying. All I could think about was how there were years where I’d have to remind my parents about my birthday. All I’d ask for was to go to a bakery and get a single slice of cake. I didn’t get any presents or celebrations or shit like that. And it’s not that I wanted stuff, I just want to have some space in the world, to feel like I’m someone who’s wanted rather than hiding and trying to just keep my home as peaceful as possible. The year before college I asked my dad if I could just sit in the car for an hour so I could listen to music out loud for once. What a pathetic thing to say when I’m bombarded by friends talking about their birthday weeks, or the sweet kind things they get from friends. God I would cry so fucking much and cherish just a fraction of that. I want someone to think of me and let me know that. I can’t help but have this feeling that the world would go on so easily without me. I’ve taken up so little space in others I can’t think of any grief I would incur. I know people would be sad if I killed myself, but there’s a difference between sadness and grief. Outside of the normal loss that comes from someone’s suicide I’m not sure what people would miss. Me initiating things? The social spaces I set up through effort? Making people laugh? The only things I can think of are the things I provide, and so I feel as once those niches are replaced I fade.

I wish I knew how to take up space in this world. I want to be something to others, where I could exist when I’m asking rather than providing. I have spent so much of my life telling myself to info will get better, and a lot of things have. But I don’t have any guarantees and so I wait. I wish other people knew how desperately I want presents. I would love to be celebrated. I want something I can hold and look at and use to remind myself that things are different. Things as a proof for the argument that I am loved and I exist to the world and I would be missed. And I know it’s dangerous to equate these things because I cannot expect any gifts.

I’ve had enough ideation for the rest of a life.