What Am I Supposed to Celebrate?

What effect does commemorating my achievements have when you undermine my existence?

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“Stop being so negative, why can’t you just celebrate this?”

It’s so easy to say, so easy for you to formulate the words and look me in the eyes when you say it—I want to laugh because it’s almost as if you’re mocking me when you do that. I’m negative, I’m ungrateful, I don’t deserve what I’ve achieved because I feel upset. I’m upset about all the things you’ve said to me before, and all the things I know you’ll say to me after. But that’s irrelevant because it’s not related. The damage you’ve inflicted upon me over and over again doesn’t matter because it doesn’t relate to what I should be celebrating. It’s not that I feel hurt, which makes me an ungrateful and selfish person, but that I would let that hurt intercede with something that I should be happy about and celebrating according to your standards.

You don’t understand. You don’t understand how the pain feels like someone scraping a needle over my open wound. With it hurting like that, what am I supposed to celebrate?

“You always ruin the mood, you should celebrate with us.”

There’s a strange behaviour in people that is common among many. They all collectively choose a scapegoat to blame without exactly having to communicate with each other. It’s a silent agreement. I was the one who ruined the mood, I am the one to blame. It wasn’t your criticisms of me just minutes ago that ruined that mood, nor was it the fact that no matter what I did, no one who was in my presence ever felt satisfied with the things I do. You want me to celebrate with the people who I would cut a limb off for, only for them to find a reason to tell me how I am flawed and selfish?

I watch myself wither and lose sight of who I am, just to receive the approval of these people—and I get none. What am I supposed to celebrate?

“You dodged a bullet, you should be celebrating instead of moping!”

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I’m not sure what’s better, dodging a bullet, or feeling like there’s a knife constantly being stabbed into your chest; it’s twisted and turned so that you can feel your insides deteriorating. I would think that dodging the bullet would be better, but they always make it seem like the latter. And once again, I am scrutinized for being unable to celebrate what should be considered an achievement. They shout that they understand my pain, I scream that they never will because if they understood, they wouldn’t be trying to force a party hat onto my head as blood seethes in and out of my chest through the same gushing wounds I should be “celebrating.” With a bleeding heart and clouded mind, what am I supposed to celebrate?

“You always do this, you always ruin the mood.”

Why can everyone else cry, why can everyone else mope, why can everyone else be upset, why can everyone else take time away, why can everyone else be quiet, why can everyone else feel pain and be exempt from celebrating something they might not even be in the right mental state for? When it comes to me, I'm always expected to put up a facade for the benefit of everyone else because if I don’t, I ruin the mood. Why is that? I let people cry, I let people mope, I try my best to understand why they're upset, I let them cut me off even when it kills me inside, and I give them  space to feel their emotions. It’s never given to me, the understanding nor the space. So what am I supposed to celebrate?

“No one wants to celebrate with you.”

There’s no point in celebrating with people who only want to be there for your celebrations, never for your struggle.

What am I supposed to celebrate with you?

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Sajda Zahir

When Sajda’s not trying to reteach herself the stages of cell division for the 100th time, she usually spends her time reading romance and fantasy, listening to the Weeknd, and writing short stories.

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Celebrating Those Who Don’t

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The Importance of Enjoying Celebration