Why Birthdays?

I can't remember the last time I enjoyed my birthday.  It seems like there's always a cloud hanging over it.

My birthday is August 8. When I was growing up, there were always media stories about the bombing of Hiroshima (August 6) and Nagasaki (August 9). What a cloud to hang over an intelligent child's birthday: World War II and the world's biggest bombs so far.

I think my family, essentially my parents, stopped fussing over me when I started school, and I was an only child.  Unfortunately I was an only child who was very intelligent and wore glasses starting in second grade. The bullying was firmly entrenched by junior high. I think what got me through those years was thinking that puberty would strike those kids in high school and they'd forget about me.  Fortunately I was mostly right about that. I didn't really have close friends in school.

Adulthood has been a disappointment. Although I'm a very intelligent and talented person, I was never able to translate that into a well-paying job. America is still class conscious.  Working in offices as an administrative assistant, I discovered that I didn't count socially.  I didn't believe in church enough to go to one. I couldn't afford to go out to many venues at all, but I did things when I could.  Cupid was always looking the other way.

I have some friends, but I don't know how many really know me. None know me like my mother did.  As for social events, single women without significant others rank way down on everyone's priorities.

This is my second birthday without my mother.  Now I don't get any birthday cards at all in the mail. I feel like people should be able to enjoy their birthdays and celebrate their lives.  I guess I just don't feel like I have anything to celebrate.