Welcome, 33

Birthday. Again. Thirty-third one. Some weeks ago, perhaps for the first time in life, I was quite excited about the fact, not giving a shit for being older.

However, in the middle of July, I’ve become more depressed than usual and my previous excitement simply disappeared.

Thank goodness I don’t feel melancholic today, not even sad or thoughtful. I feel ok. I feel normal and that makes sense.


I’ve never been the kind of person who’s keen on parties. Any kind of party, to be honest, and even less regarding my birthdays. So much that I only had parties when I was a child and didn’t have an alternative. As an adult, I usually spend my birthdays alone or with the less excitement possible.

I just loathe the idea of hosting people, talking to loads of acquaintances, booking places, telling about my life and so on.

That’s why, about two years ago, I decided to spend this day the way I want, and that involves being on my own and doing what makes me comfortable.

Years ago, I used to travel to be in my hometown with my parents, grandma and uncle. I’d be awesome to be with them only, but then the drama starts: “we need a cake”. We don’t need it, but that’s fine. Sometimes not the cake I’d like to eat, but let’s go. “We need some snacks too”. We don’t need them either, but ok. By the time they invite more relatives, “why not friends?” And then I had to spend all day/night long entertaining people, telling about Sao Paulo and my stuff, boyfriends (and why the hell I don’t have one), if I have a well-paid job (really, this sort of question).

Honestly? That’s not my idea of happiness. If I’m there, I’d prefer to read a book, write something or watch rubbish on TV.

In 2015, I convinced everyone to leave me quiet. I’d been back from Ireland and I was visibly down, so at the end of the day, we had a quiet dinner – only my mom, my dad, my grandma and my uncle. It was good.

Last year I didn’t manage to travel and I stayed in Sao Paulo. It turned out to be my best birthday ever, perfect in my introvert style. I went to Botanic Garden, where I had a mini and solo picnic. I walked around and, when I got a bit tired, sat by the lake to listen to music and reflect on many necessary things. No small talk, intimate conversations with myself.

This year I also preferred to live it according to my expectations. It’s Monday, so I woke up in the morning, had a lie-in and talked to my parents on the phone. I had breakfast, watched some videos on Youtube and sorted my accessories out. I had lunch and went to work (I had a class at 1 pm). I came home because the second class starts only at 7 30 pm and I’m here, writing. Before, I studied English a bit and had some delicious cake (Red Velvet, my favourite one) with coffee. I didn’t access Facebook and I’ve got only an SMS message from a housemate.

At the weekend, I was wondering if I’d feel lonely spending the day almost isolated. You know what? I feel good. Peaceful. Especially today I’m the most special person in the world for me and I deserve a tranquil day, the way I love.

I still feel a bit bad for not staying with my family today, but I guess that at some point we need to stand for our wishes. I realised I very much think about people’s feelings, but I hardly ever pay attention to mine.

At least one day I want to be what I am without any disguise. Despite my feelings, I believe my family understands me and loves me anyway.

Happy birthday for me, welcome 33.


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