“What do you want for your birthday? Are you going to celebrate with anyone?” Grandma asks me while we sit across from each other during one of our usual Sunday afternoon visits.  

“Oh…I don’t really have anything planned. My friends are busy, and I have schoolwork to worry about,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck.  

Despite its sweet intention, the question tastes bitter. Just to think, tomorrow, I’ll be another year older.  

Birthdays used to feel special as a child. I remember flocking to old playhouses with a plethora of friends. We’d come home to the sweetest ice cream cake with my name written in pink frosting and feast, surrounded by stacks of gifts, waiting to be opened. We ran and played, laughing to our hearts’ content, while parents sat in the background and watched. Things were a lot simpler back then, when the biggest worry was getting your dream gift. They were magical celebrations that made me feel like a star. 

Nowadays, surprise messages are much shorter, and everyone’s too busy to celebrate. Some people flat out forget. As an adult, I know it’s not their fault, and that’s how life goes.  

However, the child in me can’t help but whimper and throw a tantrum. “This isn’t fair!” Her voice resounds within my thoughts. To soothe her, I explain that this is normal as we mature, and people still care, even if they can’t join in our celebration. Despite my efforts, she remains inconsolable. I can’t blame her, especially when I’m experiencing the same sadness.  

I don’t expect a giant celebration or anything fancy. My sole desire is to recapture my youthful spirit for an evening, ideally with a fantastic circle of friends at dinner or an arcade. I know my immediate family will offer to order takeout to celebrate. While I appreciate it immensely, we order food most nights we get home late or don’t want to cook. Doing the same thing for my special day feels lazy, if I’m honest. Although, that’s the way most people celebrate these days.  

I understand it’s foolish and out of my control, but I can’t help the intense anxiety I experience when faced with the swift passage of time. I used to think I had all the hours in the world. Back when my biggest problems were clothing choices and what to do after school with my friends.  

As an adult, I realize how wrong I was. Time slows for no one, and it certainly doesn’t discriminate when enforcing its effects. You feel untouchable during your prime, but the next moment, you find your circumstances mirror everyone else’s.   

This year, I’m thankful to be alive and fighting. I’ve survived moments when I honestly didn’t think I’d make it to this point, trapped in the darkest of depressive episodes. I’ve encountered new familial responsibilities, the return to demanding higher education, and other significant challenges. However, through perseverance, I’m learning to love myself and remember that I’m taking steps towards improvement while surviving alongside those factors. Something I’m very proud of. 

Numerous other extraordinary moments await; some will be better than others. This might not be the happiest page of the book, but it’s also not the worst. Just another year gone by, and for that, I can’t complain. I have the rest of 2026 to go, and maybe there are more surprises for me in the upcoming months. I don’t know what the future will hold, but I’m ready to face this new chapter and whatever is thrown my way along with it.   

Editor: Shannon Hensley