Cumpliaños

Officially, as of 12:01 yesterday, I became a legal voting citezen. Of all my birthdays, this was perhaps the most akward. It started differently than most birthdays of mine have ever began. No Mom, no Dad, no surprise cakes or balloons. Not even my own room, my own bed. I spent the whole day with people I didn't even know existed less than a month ago in places I never dreamed I would be acouple weeks ago. People I thought would be with me today have either parted to their own paths and sent birthday wishes through a brief word, or simply vanished from my life in ways I could not have imagined. This has been a perfect way to begin the lessons of being an official adult. I could not have chosen better words while seated in the far corners of a Cigar stand, sipping a coffee, lighting a fag and discussing the Steinbeck books in the bookstands near the Frank Sinatra presentation, surrounded by adults in suits. It was overall a cold realization of the path I have consequently landed on. As I took the bus near dusk, it was any other day in the lives of the hundreds of faces that had just spent there saturday behind a counter taking food orders in a rediculous red and yellow uniform that probably include some species of embaressing hats, and they could give a crap if it was my birthday today or not. I arrived in the apartment to find it dark, and empty. I circled it to find a perhaps last bit of childhood spirit in me, expecting to find any token of gratituted by my parents, letting me know they wished they could be here, etc. While partially bumbed about my so far 'awsome' 18th birthday, I came across a floating happy birthday balloon tied to an envelope labled, "With love from Mom, Dad, and Patrick. Glued to the string was a card my mother had made with birds and decorations, wishing me the most happiness and an opurtune of change in my life. Indeed..
Hoping to discover a card, letter, or any words that would have possibly boosted my glummy mood, I opened the envelope to find a counted 180 reais. I set the envelope on my bed, and cried. I cried for me, I cried for my parents, I cried for people who couldn't be with me today, I cried for who forgot about me today. I cried for the birthdays to come, for what I didnt deserve, for who I wish I could hug and tell how much I love, for whom I wish I could erase from my mind, for whom I wish would call me to wish me a happy birthday. Truthfully, they don't have to remember my birthday. My birthday is an excuse in form of an astrological 24 short hours to remind the world I exist and I have today 18 years ago to prove it. Remember me, write to me, though I have probably not written to you. Never forget me.. and wish me luck.