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I know. Birthdays are meant to feel warm, grateful, full of love. But often, they don’t feel that way at all. Sometimes they just feel quiet. A little heavy. Another day that reminds you who remembered, who didn’t, and what’s still missing. You tell yourself it shouldn’t matter, but part of you still notices. Still breaks a little. When others wish you a happy birthday, they mean well, but they can’t always see the small weight that lingers behind your eyes. And yet, you smile, thanked them - because that’s what’s expected of you. That, for now, is enough. The day doesn’t need to be happy to still count. It just has to be real. You’re here. You made it through another year. You’re still trying, still learning how to hold yourself gently. Not every year needs to be bright. Some years ask for peace instead. A quiet moment to breathe, to notice how far you’ve come, to see that even without celebration, you’re still showing up for yourself. You’ve grown in ways you couldn’t see while you were surviving. You’ve kept your heart soft, even when the world gave you reasons not to. You made it through. That’s enough. ** Happy birthday, Albert Camus. Sharing the same day with you is a quiet reminder of the strength in words that endure. M. | 7 November 2025


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