It’s around 8:45 a.m. Central Time. The date October 1st. The day I was brought into this cold world. Today, I sit 34 years of age and though I’m used to these days being symbolized as happy, I can’t help but sit and stare all around at what I am surrounded with and my wretching circumstances, feeling everything but happy. This isn’t expression in search of sympathy, yet a voice crying out to be understood.
11 years ago this very day, handcuffs were placed upon my wrists. My freedom was taken. My birthdays were said to never again be happy. I think back to when she said she would forever love me, then she left. I think back to all of the many riders who screamed “Death before Dishonor” who I no longer hear from. I can’t say that I wish I was never born; thus and so, I wish that on October 1st, 1979 I was not brought into a world that knew not of compassion, knew nothing of equality and didn’t hold high the mantra- “Only the Strong Survive.”
Pained, instead of birthday cakes, parties and burning candles, I’m stuck here alone with nothing more to invest in than fake smiles, artifical handshakes and cold stares. Maybe I should be happy for this day; for the chances of my tomorrow are not as great as some would imagine. So many years, so little tears, an enormous amount of heartache. One birthday after the next.
A million times more, I am grateful for the few who extend their wishes on this day as it is for you that I hold back the tears, hold my head high and claim to be happy when in all actuality I believe not that there is a happy soul on this side of the track. Happy Birthday to me!