It has been for the past nearly twenty-two years. I’ve ever planned anything for my birthday. It’s sad due to the fact that I can’t afford to waste money because my family isn’t well-to-do.

I don’t really care much about the celebration because I’m not a special person. However, being naive, I always hope to have a special girl celebrating with me.

The first time my brother and his friends organised a party at my house, I didn’t appreciate it, because I hoped my first celebration to be with my girl. After my training in the rain, I reached the corridor and felt something amiss; I climbed up to reach the top of the windows and saw the crowds. Then I ran off.

It’s always a good excuse to invite girls out during birthday so that they won’t have the heart to reject. But weirdly, over the years I haven’t succeeded once.

Being a failure in love, it has been such a shame to me. Perhaps, I won’t have felt dejected if I haven’t put in so much effort each time. However, as time goes by, I’ve resorted to hide the fact that I’m a loser, so as to feel more comfortable, as well as to release stress.

Sometimes I sound so confident and arrogant when conversation is about girls; sometimes I download pictures of babes from internet and claim that they’re my girlfriends. I laugh all over when some friends actually believe in my craps.

Often, I’m so envious of my buddies being able to discharge their single-hoods. On their days, I try hard to get babes for the parties. As for myself, I’m always so unlucky.

I was so used to everything, until this day, on my twenty-first birthday, I was sleeping in this stinky hole dug by myself in the field. These were the most terrible days of my life. The sadness has been carved on my heart so deeply, that it aches so badly each time I take a moment of rest, because everyone on their twenty-first would have their beloved ones by their sides.