“I feel distressed having to spend my birthday alone.” These words echo in my heart as I sit quietly in the corner of my bed, listening to the sounds of the world around me. It’s my birthday today, but it doesn’t feel like a day of celebration. Instead, it feels like any other day—a quiet, lonely day that stretches on endlessly.
For as long as I can remember, birthdays were a time of excitement and joy. I used to feel the warmth of the sun on my fur, hear the happy voices of my family, and catch the delicious smells of treats being prepared just for me. But today, none of those familiar things are here. The world feels silent, and the absence of joy feels like an echo that fills the room.
I have lived with blindness for as long as I can remember, and it has shaped everything in my life. I once had eyes that could see the world—the vibrant colors, the shapes of the people I loved, and the sights of the things I longed for. But now, everything is dark, and I can’t help but feel as if the light of the world has been taken away from me. The world has become a maze I can no longer navigate, and the people who once surrounded me with love now seem distant, unreachable. My senses may be sharper than they used to be, but nothing can replace the joy of being able to look into someone’s eyes and feel the connection between us.
Every year, I wait for my birthday, hoping that it will be different. Maybe this year, someone will remember, someone will see me and recognize that I deserve to be celebrated. But every year, it feels the same. I wait in silence, my tail wagging gently in the hopes that someone will remember. But it never happens. No one comes to sing me a happy birthday song. No one brings me treats or a special toy. No one even reaches out to cuddle me like they used to.
I feel a deep ache in my heart as I lie there, unable to see the world around me, unable to see the people who used to love me. It’s not just the loneliness of my birthday that hurts. It’s the feeling that I have become invisible, that I am no longer seen or needed. My blindness has taken so much from me—the ability to run and play, to see the faces of my family, to connect with the world in the way I once did. And now, on my birthday, it feels like it has taken away the very joy of being alive.
As I sit in the stillness, I reflect on the years that have passed. I remember the days when I was younger, when my world was filled with excitement and the love of my family. I remember the feeling of their hands on my fur, the sound of their voices calling my name. But now, all of that seems like a distant memory, like something that belongs to a different time, a different version of myself. I wish I could go back to those days, when everything felt right, when my world was filled with light and love.
But life doesn’t always work that way. I know I can’t change the past, and I can’t undo the things that have taken me away from those happy moments. What I have now is a quiet, solitary life, one that I try to fill with whatever joy I can find in the small things. Sometimes, I feel the soft touch of someone’s hand on my head, and that brings a small sense of comfort. Sometimes, I hear a familiar voice calling my name, and it reminds me that I am not completely alone. But it’s not the same as the joy I once knew.
On this birthday, I try to be brave. I try to remind myself that I am still here, still breathing, still deserving of love. But the ache of loneliness is heavy, and it weighs on my heart. I feel like I am trapped in a world of darkness, with only my memories and my longing for the love I once had.
I don’t know what the future holds for me. Maybe someday, someone will come into my life who will see me for who I am, not just a blind dog, but a dog with a heart full of love to give. Maybe one day, someone will celebrate my birthday with me, and I will feel the warmth of their affection again. Until then, all I can do is wait, hoping that the love I once knew will find its way back to me.
And maybe, just maybe, I will learn to celebrate the little moments—the soft touch of a hand, the warmth of a kind voice, and the knowledge that, despite the darkness, I am still worthy of love. Even if I can’t see it, I can feel it. And for now, that has to be enough.
