Birthday

Глава 1I hated my birthday when I was thirteen.Why did I hate this day when I was so young? I'm not sure. There are many options: messages from people who only think about you sometimes, so that one day you will remember them; gifts that say your family doesn't know you; the illusion of personal exceptionalism that is debunked as a myth, then comes back with a new force.Hypocritical acts, which are called good manners, were increasingly spinning around me like a carousel. Year after year. The «carousel» stopped only during a domestic quarrel, because of which I left home in the middle of celebrating my thirteenth birthday. My parents had grandiose plans for this day!.. I wanted to spend the whole day with the hero of the occasion, face buried in the pillow. It was the first birthday I spent far from home in the pouring rain, without a smile on my face. Nothing bad happened thi…