Why I’ll Never Date Someone With The Same Birthday As Me (and other random thoughts)

There was this boy I liked once. Everything was fine… until I found out we had the same birthday. The moment I found out, something in my brain short-circuited. I don’t know why, but it suddenly felt like a birthday incest. It feels like dating a glitch in the matrix. Who knows, maybe in the future I’ll end up with someone who shares my birthday and I won’t even care.

Anyway, it got me thinking about birthdays in general. And memories. And how I’ve always kind of been weird about them.

I remember when I was really young, my classmates will sing “Happy Birthday” to me in class. I stood there awkwardly, shy and slightly horrified. It feels more like a recitation to me. When they finished singing, I said:
“You’re welcome.”

LIKE I WAS DOING THEM A FAVOR FOR EXISTING HAHAH. But that’s not what I really meant when I said that, I just got confused.

It’s been a while since I last thought of that moment… That same little girl had no idea who I’d become.

She didn’t dream of this version of me. She probably thought I’d grow up and work at a hospital or become a teacher. But I think she’d still be happy for me. I think she’d look at me now and she’d smile. Maybe even say, “You’re welcome.”

It’s funny how our wishes change as we grow older. When we were kids, it was all about toys and cake and maybe finally getting that one shiny thing from the store. Then it turned into wishing for happiness, for our crush to like us back or get married to them, to graduate, to be successful, to be rich. We wanted so much. Everything felt like it needed to be big and loud. But now? I think I just want peace. A quiet, gentle kind of life. Slow mornings, no pressure, real connections, and a brain that isn’t constantly running in a hundred directions.

Maybe growing up isn’t about reaching some shiny destination, but about slowing down, softening, and learning how to come home to yourself.

written in between existential crises
–Belle