Today is my birthday.
At least, that is what the small sign says.
I don’t fully understand how long I have been here, or how many days have passed since someone last looked at me with kindness. Time feels strange when most of it is spent waiting.
There is a cake in front of me. I can smell it. I can sense movement around me. I hear people passing by, talking, laughing, living their lives as they go.
And I am still here.
I try to sit still so I don’t disturb anyone.
I lift my head a little higher so I might look a little more hopeful.
I don’t want to be forgotten again.
Maybe I was once loved. Maybe I once had a name spoken with warmth instead of silence. I don’t remember everything clearly anymore, but I remember wanting to belong somewhere.
Now I mostly wait.
I wait for footsteps to slow down.
I wait for a hand that might reach toward me instead of passing me by.
I wait for a voice that might say I matter.
Even just once today.
I don’t need much.
Not a big celebration.
Not many people.
Not even the cake I can smell so clearly in front of me.
I just need someone to pause.
To really look at me.
To see more than just what I have become.
Because what I want most is simple… but it feels so far away:
A single sentence that tells me I am not invisible.
“Happy birthday.”
And if you are reading this now, maybe you are already the person I’ve been waiting for without even knowing it.
Please don’t turn away too quickly.
Please don’t let this moment pass without a word.
Today is my birthday.
And I am still here… hoping someone will say it to me.
