You’ll have a lot of hard days, but none quite like his birthday.
The clock will strike midnight and you’ll still be awake. You’ll wonder who called him to sing happy birthday in your place this year.
All day, your fingers will itch to text him. You’ll type a paragraph of how you hope his day is wonderful and that he has the best year of his life because he deserves it—and then you’ll delete it all. You’ll just send ‘Happy birthday!’ instead.
Later that night, you’ll wonder if his mom got him an ice cream cake again this year, or if his dad took him out for Chinese. You always loved their traditions. You’ll realize that you’ll never be included in them again, and it will hurt more than you expected.
The clock will strike midnight again. The day is over. He’s another year older, and that’s all. But you’ll fall asleep thinking about how this is an age your love will never get to touch. 19 was the year he loved you. 20 will be the year he didn’t.
— excerpt from an unfinished book #106 // Happy birthday