So I Removed My Birthday From Facebook…
In a weird move to try to be less dependent on social media for my endorphins, I took my birthday off Facebook a few weeks ago. It was kind of like texting a guy I like, and then throwing my phone across the room, and then leaving the room. Also, apparently, I’m still twelve.
Part of it was because I’m not a huge birthday person. I mean, I enjoy my birthday, but I feel kind of weird about big parties and forcing people to celebrate my existence. Let’s just get a little bit tipsy, laugh, and not make a big deal. No presents, I’m a terrible reactor. Maybe throw in some ice cream cake.
The other part, was…well, I’m not sure. I don’t really use Facebook all that often anymore, so it could be part of the process of slowly transitioning to other methods of sharing and connecting.
But as midnight rolled in, and then passed, I got kind of nervous. Like, what if no one knows and the whole day passes and it’s just another day and my existence doesn’t matter?
When did I start putting so much weight on birthdays anyway? Am I really defining good friends as people who could remember my birthday? That feels kind of silly.
I mean, we don’t really need a single day to remember we love someone and we’re happy they’re still here with us. Sure, it’s a good benchmark, and I’ll keep wishing my friends happy birthday, especially if Facebook reminds me, but maybe I can be okay if other people don’t. Maybe I can stop relying on notifications and texts and likes to remember my friends love me and that they’re happy I exist.
That they’re happy I exist all the time, and not just on my birthday. Because that’s how I feel about them.
P.S. Medium suggested Death as a tag. I mean, I know I’m getting older, but, like, come on guys. Twenty five is hardly toeing the grave.