Birthday

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I 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 this year. It's just that the festivity has lost its festive atmosphere. The birthday cake has lost its special taste over time. I've stopped celebrating at all since then. In tribute to the good old days with my balloons of enthusiasm and days of idleness.

On a warm May evening, just before my birthday, I was sitting in the kitchen and writing the formula for the perfect birthday party. My friend Anya helped me to make calculations. At that time, Anna and I were close as friends. Now we don't have time to talk about life. But, despite this, I like to call her «Anya» in a friendly way.

‘I want to celebrate my birthday in the company of great people!’ I declared. ‘We will send bright invitation cards to Alexandre Dumas père, Arthur Conan Doyle and Jules Verne. And one black card to Arthur Schopenhauer. I'm sure he likes gloomy colors better. Most importantly, do not forget to invite Ludwig II of Bavaria and his lover Empress Sisi. After all, the Fairy Tale King was the one who suggested this idea to me. The interesting scene:bohemian society a party hats are waiting on the doorstep, and they already want to throw off their clothes in the hallway. The guests will soon sit down to dinner. Richard I will pour the drinks like a stormy river. And the birthday cake will certainly be cut by al-Malik al-Nasir Salah al-Dunya wa'l-Din Abu'l Muzaffar Yusuf Ibn Ayyub Ibn Shadi al-Kurdi!..Close friends from Europe called him Saladin. But I called him «al-Malik al-Nasir Salah al-Dunya wa'l-Din Abu'l Muzaffar Yusuf Ibn Ayyub Ibn Shadi al-Kurdi». High-society conversations were to begin at the table and start a discussion about the infinity of the cosmos. Arthur Eddington and Albert Einstein will start a discussion about the infinity of the cosmos. Roman Dmowski will tell José Antonio Primo de Rivera about the ideal model of the state. A slightly drunk Andy Kaufman will begin to prove to a dead drunk Tony Clifton that he never had a double. Marcus Aurelius and Laozi start a dispute, which of them can solve a matter of life and death. Frédéric Chopin will make fun of Wolfgang Mozart. Chopin will ask if Mozart could seduce George Sand, and challenge Richard Wagner himself. I can already see: Jack London, Daniel Defoe, William Shakespeare and George Orwell telling heartwarming stories about life in the corner of the room. Even George Washington and Napoleon Bonaparte will find common ground. They definitely won't start a quasi-war over a bowl of food… or a boat of food!

‘They have all become Eternity…’ Anya answered frightfully.

‘Haha, it’s my sweet spot! My friend, you're insanely right now!’ I turned with a smile to Anna Akhmatova, a famous poet of the XX century.