Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a day that marks another year of life and the potential for joy. But instead, it’s a day that underscores the loneliness and pain that have become all too familiar. I’m not just another face in the crowd; I’m the one people avert their eyes from, the one they pass by without a second thought.

From a young age, I learned that appearances matter. Society has a way of valuing people based on how they look and how clean they appear, as if these surface-level traits determine one’s worth. I’ve been labeled as “ugly” and “dirty,” and these words have clung to me like a shadow, influencing the way others see me and, inevitably, how I see myself.

On my  birthday, this hurt intensifies. While others receive gifts, smiles, and well-wishes, I am met with indifference or, worse, disdain. People don’t see the person behind the labels. They don’t know the story that has led to this moment—the hardships endured, the battles fought, and the resilience required to simply exist in a world that often feels unkind.

What’s most painful is not just the absence of kindness but the deliberate exclusion. Being left behind because of something as superficial as appearance feels like a profound injustice. It’s as if my value as a human being is reduced to how I look, rather than who I am.

But there’s a strength in acknowledging this pain, in not letting it define the entirety of who I am. Despite the hurt, I continue to hold onto hope that one day, people will look beyond the surface, that they’ll see the beauty in resilience, in kindness, in the spirit that refuses to be broken.

Today is my birthday, and while it may be filled with more sorrow than joy, it also marks another year of survival, of living despite the odds. The hurt is real, but so is the hope that tomorrow might bring something better—a world where people are not judged by their appearances but embraced for their humanity.