You Ignored My Birthday So I Erased Myself From The Family

My family never remembered my birthday. Ethan’s meant a steakhouse booked a month ahead; Chloe’s meant Six Flags and Mom’s Instagram carousel: “Happy birthday to our little princess.” Mine is July 19th, mid-summer—always ignored. On my eighteenth, I woke early, put on makeup, and waited on the couch. Mom passed with Chloe’s dance bag: “Heat your own lunch. I’m taking her to intensive.” Dad left with Ethan to play ball. By noon I was alone. I texted the family chat: “I’m eighteen today! 🎉”…

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