My Birthday Was Last Week and I’m Still Hurt

Dear Delyara, I know how childish that sounds. I’m a grown woman. I know nobody owes me balloons, surprise dinners, or some movie-version celebration. But I can’t stop replaying how ordinary the day felt. I still made dinner. I still answered texts. I still cleaned the kitchen. I still reminded my son about homework. A few people sent messages. My family said the right things. Nobody was cruel. That almost makes it worse. Because what hurt wasn’t some big obvious failure. It was the feeling that my life could pass through one more year and still look almost exactly like a Tuesday. I wanted one day where I felt seen, not useful. That’s the sentence I couldn’t say out loud.