Facade

24|| birthday routine

song : Lost Without You - Freya Ridings
tw : mentions of death, depression and abuse

~ Alejandra ~

Birthdays were always something I cherished. Not only my own, but anyone else's that I was given the opportunity to celebrate.

Ever since I could remember, birthdays always gave me comfort.

There was a certain hope that was shared within balloons, cake and a song with a specific name in a sense that it was a celebration of life.

As a kid, that was important; having hope and excitement for life.

But now, for me at least, on this day for exactly six years, my birthday became not only a celebration of life, but a memorial of death.

The death of my one, true best friend.

The routine on this day has been the same every year.

My alarm goes off at seven, early to remind me how she would always come into my room and start singing happy birthday at the crack of dawn before she'd tickle me under the covers.

I still hear my shrieks and our giggles, knowing even though I'm sixteen today, she would've done it the exact same way.

The first thirty minutes of the morning are always spent trying not to cry, the other thirty spent trying to find the strength to get up, regardless of the weight that appears the night before in my chest, pulling me down into the mattress.

By eight-ten, I'm dressed.

The rest of the outfit never matters, so long as I wear the rose pink long sleeve that I stole from my moms closet after she died.

I lived in it for months after that, using it for a shirt when I was awake, a blanket for when I slept, and a tissue for my tears.

The top is knitted, light and hugs the skin perfectly. I always used to trace the outlines of the chain link pattern knitted on the arms, the sweet aroma of her flowery perfume always clinging to the fabric.

To this day, I swear I can still smell it.

It was her favorite shirt in her favorite color, and now, I only wear it twice a year.

Once for my birthday and once for hers.

She loved birthdays too.

Next, I go to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and spending my time putting my hair in two, neat braids since she used to love braiding my hair.

With all my curls, it took longer than it did for her hair, but she didn't mind. She called it our girl time.

After putting on my shoes and jacket, I quietly make my way to the front and out the door, making sure to lock it behind me as quietly as possible.

My dad hates me everyday, but today?

He could kill me.

When high school started, I began spending my birthday at Nayah's because every year that I get older, I genuinely consider letting him.

Once I'm outside, I quickly stop at the grocery store on Avenue D to pick up a bouquet mixed with roses and sunflowers.

She could never decide which one she liked more.

Usually, I'd walk to Houston Street and hail a cab, but now with my phone, I got an uber. Even with the ice of the December air burning into my skin, I never skip getting her flowers.