Not so many days ago, it was my birthday. It was a Wednesday, so school couldn’t be ignored. Plus, I also had an examination ahead of me on my birthday.
The routine that day was no different.
Woke up early, got ready for school, and went to school.
I tend to wake up before anyone else in my house. My parents were still sound asleep when I left the house. Though, you’d think that they’d wake up a little early just to…well, maybe wish me Happy Birthday?
But I didn’t mind. I was used to it by now.
With school, came a huge wave of greetings and candy and lots of delicious food. Among all this, I forgot about that disappointing morning yet again. When I got back home, I had my best friend over to celebrate. She somehow managed to make my birthday the best birthday I ever had. Everything went great, till she had to go home.
It was around 8 in the evening, me and my dad went to drop her off. On our way back, I waited desperately for a Happy Birthday. He didn’t utter a single word. Silence was piercing through my ears. I was angry, I was sad and I wanted to rip someone’s beating heart out (Not in literal sense, though.)
My mother had already wished me in the afternoon from work.
But I waited for my father. I was sitting next to him, for 30 minutes and he did not wish me or even talk about something else. I tried initiating the conversation, but he’s just simply answer my questions and then go back to being mute.
I realized that it wasn’t worth me feeling sad. It wasn’t worth me spending the rest of my birthday thinking, “My father didn’t wish me on my birthday.”
I should’ve learnt my lesson long ago when a gold medal in English Olympiad couldn’t make him smile at me.
I thought to myself, “Keep your cool. Eventually, it’ll stop hurting.”
That throbbing pain in my gut came back to life the very next day.
A friend of mine was talking about missing her father, as he lives in a different country. She talked about how her father used to take her to the ice-cream parlor every weekend. How the doughnut shop was their favorite place in the world. How in winters, she used to snuggle up next to her dad because she felt warm with him. After her, some more friends started telling stories about them with their fathers. Gradually, they looked at me.
“What about you? Tell us one about you and your father.” They asked.
“Oh…um, Okay. Once me and my dad went to this amusement park…” I started making the whole story up. I tried really hard to remember one, but failed again and again.
Later that day, I thought about it and I reached a conclusion.
So what if he didn’t wish me? So what if we don’t have one memory together that I can cherish? I don’t care anymore. Because I’m better than him. If I go up to him and argue with him then there’ll be no difference between the two of us. I’m nothing like my father. I’m a better person than him. I’m a better human being than him.
If I keep on sulking, the only one its going to affect is me. No one else will face its effect. Its going to be my eyes which are swollen, it’ll be my head which is pounding and it’ll be my heart which is breaking. No one else’s.
If I don’t stop caring, I’ll end up being one of those girls with “Daddy issues.”
I’m not that girl. I won’t ever be that girl.
I’m going to live my life to its fullest. I’ll have no one blame if sometimes, things go wrong. But I also won’t have to give its credit, if I end up doing something amazing.