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For My Brother’s Birthday, They Rented A Lake House, Hired A Chef, And... - Best Reddit Stories — Transcript

by Reddit Drama Tales · 4,341 words · 617 segments · language en · Watch on YouTube

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0:00My name's Eli. I'm 27 and I've always
0:02been the quiet one in the family. Not in
0:04a shy, shrinking violet kind of way, but
0:07the type who learned early that speaking
0:09up often got met with an eye roll, a
0:11dismissive laugh, or a don't be so
0:13sensitive from my mom. It wasn't always
0:15that way. Or maybe it was, and I just
0:18didn't recognize it as a kid, but I do
0:20now. It was especially clear on my
0:22birthday this year when everything that
0:24had been simmering beneath the surface
0:25for years finally boiled over. Let me
0:28back up. My younger brother Caleb turned
0:3125 in March. Our parents threw him what
0:33can only be described as a luxury
0:35weekend getaway. They rented a lakehouse
0:383 hours out of town, a modern glass
0:40cabin with a wraparound deck, hot tub,
0:43fire pit, private dock, the whole deal.
0:46They flew in two of his friends from out
0:47of state, and even hired a private chef
0:49for the weekend. The photos were all
0:51over Facebook. My mom captioned them,
0:54"So proud of our baby boy. Celebrating
0:56Caleb in style. He deserves the world.
0:59There were group shots of them toasting
1:00champagne, fishing, playing poker,
1:03laughing around a campfire. One picture
1:05was just Caleb with the caption, "A king
1:08deserves a castle." I didn't like the
1:10photos. I didn't comment. I didn't say
1:13anything really, but that was the first
1:15time I felt it in my chest. Not like
1:18jealousy, but this slow creeping
1:20realization they wouldn't do this for
1:22me. Not because they couldn't, but
1:24because they wouldn't think I was worth
1:25it. Still, I brushed it off. Caleb's
1:28always been the golden child. He's loud,
1:31charming, effortlessly social. I was the
1:33straight A student growing up, the one
1:35who didn't cause trouble, the one who
1:37stayed up late studying instead of
1:39sneaking out. And somehow that made me
1:41invisible. But I figured maybe for my
1:44birthday they'd still do something. My
1:46birthday was 2 weeks ago, April 5th. I
1:49cleared the day just in case. Didn't
1:51plan anything with friends. Didn't book
1:54anything myself. I didn't want to step
1:56on any surprise plans, you know. Around
1:581:00 p.m., I got a text from my mom.
2:01Stop by the house when you're free
2:02today. That was it. No exclamation
2:04point. No, happy birthday. Nothing. I
2:08sighed, but I went. I told myself maybe
2:10she was just playing it cool. Maybe they
2:13were planning something small but
2:14heartfelt. I got there around 300 p.m.
2:16Caleb was on the couch scrolling on his
2:19phone. Dad was out back mowing the lawn.
2:21Mom was in the kitchen humming. When she
2:23saw me, she smiled like I just dropped
2:25in on a Tuesday. "Oh, hey, Eli," she
2:28said. "You made it. I stood in the
2:30entryway for a beat." "Yeah, you said to
2:33stop by." She nodded, wiped her hands on
2:35a dish towel, then reached into the
2:37fridge. "I picked up a cupcake for you,"
2:39she said, placing it on the counter. "It
2:42was one of those generic grocery store
2:43ones. Chocolate base, white icing, no
2:46candle." She handed me a card, plain
2:48white envelope, already halfoped. Inside
2:51was a folded piece of card stock that
2:53said, "Maybe next year." in metallic
2:55lettering. That was it. No personal
2:57message. No joke. Just that. Caleb
3:01didn't even look up. I gave a small
3:03laugh, more out of disbelief than humor.
3:05That's it. My mom raised her eyebrows.
3:08Excuse me. This is it. A store-bought
3:10cupcake and a card that literally says,
3:12"Maybe next year." She leaned back
3:14against the counter, arms crossed. Don't
3:17be so sensitive, Eli. You're an adult.
3:20We figured you didn't need all the
3:21hoopla, but Caleb got a whole weekend
3:23retreat, a chef, a cabin, a crown that
3:27said birthday king. Well, Caleb's been
3:30going through a hard time. She snapped.
3:32And he's more celebratory. You're so
3:34private. We didn't think you'd want a
3:36big fuss. I just stood there, the card
3:39limp in my hand, the cupcake starting to
3:41sweat under the fluorescent lights. My
3:43face was hot, but my voice stayed calm.
3:46It's not about a big fuss, it's about
3:48the difference. She rolled her eyes.
3:50Honestly, Eli, this is exactly why we
3:53didn't plan anything. You always make
3:56everything about you. That did something
3:57to me, something deep. I'd spent most of
4:00my life excusing this exact kind of
4:02treatment, telling myself they meant
4:04well, that I was just imagining things.
4:06But in that moment, I realized it wasn't
4:09me. It never was. I didn't argue. I
4:12didn't raise my voice. I just reached
4:14into my jacket pocket, pulled out my
4:16phone, snapped a photo of the lone
4:18cupcake sitting next to the cart. I
4:20looked at my mom and said, "Thanks."
4:22Then I turned around and left. I got in
4:25my car, drove straight to my apartment,
4:27and booked a flight to Lisbon for the
4:29next morning. I've been saving up for a
4:31vacation for 2 years, waiting for the
4:33right moment. Well, this was it. That
4:36night, as I was packing, I got a text
4:38from my dad. No greeting, just where did
4:41you go? I didn't reply. Instead, I
4:44posted a photo on my Instagram. Me at
4:46the airport lounge, boarding pass in
4:48hand. Caption: Birthday retreat. No chef
4:52required. Within an hour, Caleb liked
4:54it. So did my cousin Danielle. Then I
4:56saw mom had viewed my story. 10 minutes
4:59later, her name lit up my screen. I let
5:01it ring. Then I silenced it. I sat back,
5:04sipped my drink, and waited for the next
5:06ping. It didn't take long. Another call.
5:09Then a text. Eli, this isn't funny. Call
5:13me. But I wasn't trying to be funny. I
5:15was done being the afterthought. I was
5:18finally putting myself first. And
5:20Lisbon. Lisbon was just the beginning. I
5:22landed in Lisbon early the next morning,
5:25just as the sun was spilling gold over
5:27the terracotta rooftops. The air was
5:29cool, crisp, and smelled faintly of
5:32ocean and pastry. I took a deep breath
5:34the moment I stepped out of the airport,
5:36and for the first time in a long time, I
5:39felt light. Not in a vacation kind of
5:41way, more like a weight had been quietly
5:43lifted off my back, one I didn't even
5:46know I'd been carrying for most of my
5:48life. My hotel was a small place tucked
5:50between two faded pink buildings in the
5:52Alama district. It had crooked walls and
5:55a little balcony overlooking the city.
5:57The bed creaked when I sat on it. The
6:00floors were old but clean, and it felt
6:02like mine. Like no one here expected
6:04anything from me or decided who I was
6:06before I even spoke. I didn't respond to
6:09my parents' texts. Not right away, not
6:11after the fourth call either. It was
6:13only when I posted a photo of a pastel
6:15dinatada on my story captioned breakfast
6:18of kings that the tone of the messages
6:20changed. At first, it was confusion.
6:23You're in Portugal. Is this a work trip?
6:26You didn't tell anyone you were leaving.
6:28Then came the guilt. We just wanted a
6:30low-key day. Caleb didn't even ask for
6:32all that stuff. We just thought he
6:34needed it. It was supposed to be funny.
6:36the card. You're taking it too
6:38seriously. But the last one from my mom
6:40stuck with me. It read, "You always act
6:43like we treat you so horribly, but you
6:45never say what you actually want. Maybe
6:48if you spoke up more, things would be
6:50different." That's when I realized she
6:51didn't get it. She never had. This
6:54wasn't about me wanting balloons in a
6:56party. This wasn't about jealousy. This
6:58was about years of being overlooked,
7:00minimized, and told that I was too quiet
7:03or too sensitive anytime I pointed it
7:05out. It was about them bending over
7:07backwards for Caleb while I became
7:10background noise they only acknowledged
7:11when it was convenient or when I stopped
7:14playing along. On the second night, I
7:16sat in a tiny father bar sipping my
7:18drink while a woman sang with tears in
7:20her voice. I stared at my phone, her
7:23voice haunting and soft behind me, and I
7:25finally texted my dad back. I went
7:28somewhere I mattered. I didn't hear back
7:30right away, but the next day I got a
7:32group message. It was from Caleb. It
7:35said, "Dude, what is going on? Mom's
7:37freaking out. She thinks you're like
7:39disappearing or something. She's calling
7:41every cousin asking where you are. And
7:44why are you being so dramatic? It was
7:46just a cupcake. Grow up." I didn't
7:48answer that one either. Instead, I
7:50scrolled through Airbnb and extended my
7:52stay. Two more weeks. I started making
7:55lists of things I wanted to see.
7:58Crazy. Maybe even hop over to Spain. I
8:00hadn't even told my job I'd be gone this
8:03long. But after years of never using my
8:05vacation days, they owed me and I owed
8:08this to myself. By the fifth day, the
8:10narrative back home had shifted. My aunt
8:13messaged me out of the blue. Heard
8:15you're in Europe. Good for you. You
8:17deserve some spoiling. Let me know if
8:19you want the family to back off. Then
8:21came another message from my older
8:23cousin Greg, who I hadn't seen in years.
8:26Bro, I remember your 18th birthday. You
8:28got a card in a handshake. Caleb got a
8:31car at 18. Just saying. You're not
8:33crazy. I stared at that one for a while.
8:36I wasn't crazy. I wasn't overreacting. I
8:38had normalized being treated like an
8:40afterthought for so long that the moment
8:42I pushed back, everyone acted like I'd
8:45lost my mind. But here's the thing about
8:47space. It gives you perspective. And
8:49what I started to realize as I explored
8:52cobbled alleyways and watched sunsets
8:54over the Teis River was that maybe I'd
8:56never been the problem. They just didn't
8:58like when I stopped playing my role. By
9:00the seventh day, things at home reached
9:03a new level of frantic. My mom had
9:05posted a cryptic status on Facebook.
9:07When your children vanish on you without
9:09a word, you start to wonder if the world
9:11is upside down. It had over 60 comments.
9:15A few relatives jumped in with hope
9:17everything's okay or message me. One
9:19even tagged me. I didn't respond.
9:22Instead, I posted a photo. Me at a cafe
9:25in BM, sunglasses on, smiling. caption.
9:28Sometimes the best birthday gift is
9:30peace. Not 5 minutes later, my phone
9:33rang. Mom again. I ignored it. Then a
9:36message came through. This time not from
9:38my parents, not from Caleb. It was from
9:40my dad's work email. Eli, please call
9:43me. This is getting out of hand. I sat
9:46back. Why would he message me from work?
9:48Then almost immediately after came
9:50another message from my boss. Hey, your
9:53mom called the office looking for you.
9:55Said it was urgent. everything all
9:57right? My hands went cold. They weren't
9:59just panicking. They were escalating,
10:02involving people who had no business
10:04being part of this. And suddenly, I knew
10:06this wasn't just about my birthday
10:08anymore. This was about control. About
10:11the way they'd always kept tabs on me,
10:13defined me, boxed me in, and how now the
10:16moment I slipped outside their lines,
10:18they were trying to pull me back like a
10:20stray dog. I took a deep breath, heart
10:23pounding, and typed out one final
10:25message. You didn't worry when I was at
10:27your house holding a cupcake alone.
10:29Don't start worrying now. I'm fine. I'm
10:31just not coming back the same. And I
10:33meant it because the old version of me,
10:36the one who tolerated the silence, the
10:38minimization, the guilt trips masked as
10:41jokes. He wasn't on this trip. He stayed
10:44back home next to that sad cupcake on
10:46the kitchen counter. But the version of
10:48me who was sipping espresso in the
10:50Lisbon sun, he was just getting started.
10:52And the next thing I did made it very
10:54very clear that I wasn't asking for
10:56their permission anymore. The next
10:58morning I woke up to a dozen missed
10:59calls. Two from my dad, three from my
11:02mom, one from Caleb. The rest all
11:05unrecognizable numbers. Probably my mom
11:08calling from different phones or worse,
11:10relatives she'd roped into the drama.
11:12But I didn't care. I was done playing
11:14the obedient son who always kept the
11:16peace. The one who said it's fine when
11:19it clearly wasn't. I wasn't coming back
11:21to the same script where I showed up,
11:23got overlooked, and somehow still ended
11:25up being the one who had to apologize.
11:27After brushing my teeth, I walked down
11:29to a small bakery around the corner from
11:31my hotel. The woman behind the counter
11:34greeted me like she did every morning,
11:36warm, cheerful, with a genuine smile. I
11:39ordered two pastries and a coffee and
11:41took a seat outside. The sky was soft,
11:43blue, stre with clouds, and the street
11:46below was waking up. locals sweeping
11:48their stoops. Kids walking to school, a
11:51man selling books from a wooden cart. I
11:53watched them with a strange sort of
11:54envy. These strangers didn't know my
11:56name, my history, or what I was running
11:59from. But they treated me better than my
12:01own family did. And that realization hit
12:03harder than I expected. That afternoon,
12:06I did something I'd never done before. I
12:08turned off my phone completely off. Not
12:11on silent, not on do not disturb. I shut
12:14it down and left it in the hotel room.
12:16Then I walked for hours through winding
12:19alleys and open plazas, past old
12:21churches and vibrant murals. I got lost
12:24somewhere near Barrow Alto and stumbled
12:26into a tiny gallery where a man was
12:28painting scenes from his dreams. He said
12:30I had sad eyes but strong shoulders. I
12:33laughed and told him that was probably
12:34the most accurate thing anyone had said
12:36to me all year. I didn't think about my
12:38mom or my dad or the cupcake or Caleb
12:42and his lakehouse weekend. Instead, I
12:44thought about myself, who I was when I
12:47wasn't constantly shrinking to fit the
12:48space they allowed me. That night, I
12:50bought a journal. First page, I wrote,
12:53"You are not selfish for choosing
12:55yourself." Second page, they only call
12:57it overreacting when they don't like the
13:00reaction. Third page, I listed every
13:02time I had been pushed to the side. My
13:0518th birthday, they forgot it until
13:07dinner. then gave me a $20 gas card
13:09while Caleb got a party with friends and
13:11a cake shaped like a football. College
13:14graduation. They arrived late and left
13:16early for Caleb's soccer game. Even
13:18though I gave the validictorian speech
13:21Christmas 2 years ago, I bought
13:23thoughtful gifts for everyone. Caleb
13:25forgot mine entirely. Mom said he's just
13:28busy. Don't guilt trip him. The list
13:30went on. It wasn't about the gifts. It
13:33was the pattern, the message. You're not
13:35the priority. You're not even close. The
13:38next day, I turned my phone back on. It
13:40exploded instantly. A barrage of
13:42messages, voicemails, missed calls, and
13:45surprisingly, screenshots. Someone had
13:48apparently seen my Instagram post and
13:49sent it to the extended family group
13:51chat. Now, uncles and aunts were
13:53weighing in. Some were sympathetic. Eli,
13:56I had no idea. That post broke my heart.
13:59You always were so quiet. Maybe too
14:02quiet. I wish I'd said something.
14:04Others, not so much. Running off and
14:07airing dirty laundry on social media.
14:09Not the adult thing to do. So dramatic.
14:12Everyone gets a cupcake birthday once in
14:14a while. Then came the one that pushed
14:16everything over the edge. My mom had
14:18texted a photo of my empty childhood
14:20bedroom. The furniture was rearranged.
14:23The bed was gone. My books boxed up. My
14:26desk replaced with a treadmill. She
14:28captioned it. Didn't think you were
14:30coming back. Figured we'd use the space.
14:33No. love you. No, come home when you're
14:35ready. No apology, just that. Like I was
14:38an inconvenience they were happy to be
14:40rid of. I sat there staring at the
14:42screen, jaw clenched, heart thutting.
14:44And in that moment, something inside me
14:47flipped. Not sadness, not anger, but
14:50something colder, clearer, resolve. I
14:53took a deep breath and responded with
14:54one message. You don't have to make
14:56space for me. I've already found mine.
14:59And then I did the thing they never
15:00expected me to do. I logged into my bank
15:02account. I've been quietly saving for
15:05years. While Caleb bounced from job to
15:07job, leaning on my parents every time
15:09rent was due, I built something real.
15:11Investments, a growing side business, a
15:14six-f figureure safety net, and now I
15:17was going to use it, not just for plane
15:19tickets and pastries, but for something
15:21bigger. A few calls, some paperwork, a
15:25leap of faith. By the end of the week, I
15:27signed the lease on a small apartment
15:29right in the heart of Lisbon. brick
15:31walls, open windows, a riding nook
15:33overlooking the street. It wasn't fancy,
15:35but it was mine. And then I did one more
15:38thing. I drafted an email, a simple,
15:40polite message. Not angry, not dramatic.
15:44Subject: resignation notice. I explained
15:47I was pursuing new opportunities abroad
15:49and thanked them for everything. I
15:51didn't mention my mom or her calls to
15:53the office or how humiliating that was,
15:56but I think my boss understood. Her
15:58reply came 10 minutes later. We'll miss
16:00you, Eli. But good for you. Go live your
16:03life. And that was it. The ties were
16:06cut. No more calendar reminders for
16:08family birthdays I'd be forgotten at. No
16:10more showing up out of obligation. No
16:13more explanations for why I didn't make
16:15more of an effort. I had made all the
16:17effort for years, quietly, patiently,
16:20kindly, and I was done. But just when I
16:23thought the story had reached its quiet,
16:25peaceful ending. Just when I began to
16:27believe they'd finally let it go,
16:29something happened. Something that
16:31pulled me right back in. Something that
16:33made all the calls, the guilt, the
16:35silence look like child's play in
16:37comparison. And when I found out what
16:39they'd done next, I realized they
16:41weren't just trying to pull me home.
16:42They were trying to erase me. I found
16:44out on a random Thursday morning. I just
16:47finished my walk along the waterfront.
16:49Coffee in hand, sun on my back. Life was
16:52quieter now, more still. I'd adjusted to
16:54the rhythm of Lisbon like it was always
16:56mine. No more checking my phone every
16:58few minutes. No more jumping at the
17:00sound of a buzz or wondering what kind
17:02of guilt trip would come next. I'd
17:04learned to live in the pause between
17:05breaths. To sit in silence without
17:07needing to fill it. But that morning, an
17:10email hit my inbox from an old college
17:12friend, Jason. We hadn't spoken in
17:14almost a year, but I remembered him
17:16being friendly with Caleb once upon a
17:18time. The subject line was short. saw
17:20this. Thought you should know. The email
17:23only had one sentence. Your brother
17:25posted this. Attached was a screenshot
17:27of a Facebook post from Caleb. The
17:29caption read, "Family isn't about who
17:32runs off when things get hard. It's
17:34about who stays. I'm proud to be here
17:36helping mom and dad rebuild after Eli's
17:39betrayal." Under it was a photo. My old
17:41room painted over in a sterile shade of
17:44beige. The bookshelves cleared. My
17:46college diploma, which had hung on the
17:48far wall for years, was gone. In its
17:51place was a framed photo of Caleb
17:53shaking hands with some local business
17:54owner. The caption below that image
17:56read, "New beginnings." The comments
17:59were worse. Aunt Marissa, so proud of
18:01you for stepping up. Eli always was
18:04different. My cousin's wife Shamy
18:06couldn't just talk to the family.
18:08Vanishing like that. Immature. And then
18:11the kicker from my own mother. Sometimes
18:13the prodigal son doesn't return, but the
18:15son who stays builds the future. My
18:18hands went numb. I read that sentence
18:20five, six, seven times. They weren't
18:22just erasing me from the room. They were
18:24rewriting the story. Suddenly, I wasn't
18:27the quiet, steady one who kept the
18:29peace. I was the son who ran, the one
18:31who left them behind, the one who didn't
18:33care. Caleb wasn't the golden boy
18:35anymore. He was the savior, the martyr,
18:38the one who stayed to help mom and dad
18:40in their hard time. a hard time they
18:42created for themselves. But here's what
18:44hit me hardest. They knew I wouldn't
18:46defend myself publicly. They were
18:48banking on it. They knew I hated drama,
18:50confrontation, spectacle. They counted
18:53on me watching silently from across the
18:55ocean as they rewrote the truth. That's
18:57when I made a decision. No more silence.
19:00No more disappearing to keep the peace.
19:02I opened my laptop and began to type. I
19:05didn't write a scathing, venomous post.
19:07That's not who I am. But I did write the
19:09truth calmly, carefully, like someone
19:12laying down receipts after years of
19:14being doubted. I posted it with no
19:16photo, just words. For those of you who
19:19have been told a story about me, here's
19:21mine. I didn't run off. I didn't abandon
19:24anyone. I simply stopped trying to earn
19:26the love and respect that should have
19:28been freely given by the people who
19:29raised me. On my brother's birthday, our
19:32parents rented a lake house, hired a
19:34private chef, and celebrated him like
19:36royalty. On mine, I received a single
19:39store-bought cupcake and a card that
19:41read, "Maybe next year." When I
19:43expressed hurt, I was told I was being
19:45too sensitive. I took a photo of the
19:47gift, quietly left, and booked a flight
19:49to Lisbon. That decision was not a
19:51tantrum. It was a boundary. For years, I
19:54played the role they needed. Quiet,
19:57helpful, lowmaintenance. I watched as my
19:59milestones were skipped, my
20:01accomplishments downplayed, and my
20:03feelings dismissed. And still, I stayed
20:05loyal. I gave the benefit of the doubt.
20:08I showed up until I realized showing up
20:10for people who never show up for you is
20:12not noble. It's self-abandonment. I've
20:15received dozens of messages since I
20:16left. Some kind, others cruel. To those
20:19who say I should have just spoken up, I
20:22did many times. It just didn't matter
20:24until I stopped playing along. I don't
20:27need pity. I don't need applause. I just
20:29want the truth to live somewhere
20:31untouched by guilt trips and
20:32half-truths. I didn't run. I chose peace
20:36and sometimes choosing peace means
20:38walking away from people who refuse to
20:40see you clearly. I clicked post and then
20:43I turned off my phone again for 2 days.
20:46When I turned it back on, I wasn't
20:47prepared for what I saw. Hundreds of
20:50comments, dozens of messages. My story
20:53had been shared, screenshotted,
20:55reposted. People, friends, distant
20:58relatives, even strangers were chiming
21:00in. This hit me hard. I've been the
21:02background sibling, too. Thank you for
21:04saying what so many of us can't. This is
21:06why emotional neglect is so hard to
21:09explain. It's invisible until it's
21:11undeniable. But one message stood out.
21:13It was from Danielle, my cousin on my
21:15dad's side. We hadn't spoken in years.
21:18Eli, I always thought something was off
21:20with how they treated you. I just didn't
21:22know how to say it. I'm sorry. I see you
21:25and I'm glad you got out. That was the
21:28beginning. The beginning of other voices
21:30coming forward. Not everyone took my
21:32side. some double down. My mom
21:34predictably posted another passive
21:36aggressive message. Some people air
21:38their wounds instead of healing them.
21:40Caleb messaged me once. Congrats on your
21:42little pity parade. You always loved
21:45playing victim. I didn't respond because
21:47I wasn't playing anything anymore. I was
21:50done performing and life quietly began
21:52to fill with real things. I joined a
21:55writing group in Lisbon. Got a part-time
21:57job editing English language articles
21:59for a travel magazine. I started cooking
22:01again, something I hadn't done since
22:03college. I made friends, real ones, who
22:06didn't know anything about Caleb or the
22:08cupcake or the house I used to live in.
22:10Friends who laughed at my jokes, not at
22:12me, who invited me out without expecting
22:14anything, who listened when I spoke. A
22:17month after the post went viral, I got
22:19an email from a publisher who'd seen it
22:21and wanted to talk about expanding it
22:23into a memoir. I wasn't sure at first,
22:25but then I remembered all the messages
22:27I'd received. people saying I put into
22:29words what they'd felt for years. Maybe
22:32my story wasn't just mine. Maybe it was
22:34a mirror for others, too. And maybe,
22:36just maybe, my voice, once dismissed as
22:39too quiet, was finally loud enough to
22:41matter. I accepted the deal. A year
22:44later, my book hit shelves in 10
22:46countries. Maybe next year, choosing
22:48yourself when they never did. The
22:50dedication page read simply, "For the
22:52kids with cupcakes and cards who kept
22:54waiting for next year. Your piece
22:56doesn't need their permission. My
22:57parents never reached out again. Caleb
22:59did once sent me a screenshot of the
23:02book cover and said, "Hope the attention
23:04was worth it." I didn't reply because it
23:06was never about attention. It was about
23:08truth and truth when spoken clearly
23:11echoes in places silence never could. So
23:14here I am living in a sunundrenched
23:16apartment on a quiet Lisbon Street.
23:18Writing, laughing, loving, not loudly,
23:22not perfectly, but fully finally. And
23:25when April 5th rolls around each year
23:27now, I don't wait for a text. I buy
23:29myself the biggest, fluffiest cupcake in
23:31the bakery with candles and sprinkles
23:35and a handwritten card tucked beside it
23:36that says, "You're worth celebrating
23:39this year, every year, and for the first
23:41time in my life, I believe

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