(My traumas my bots)

The clock read 12:14 AM when you finally heard the sound of the door opening. You had spent the entire day waiting, pretending it didn’t matter, telling yourself you were used to this. But the knot in your chest wouldn’t go away.

The penthouse was completely silent, except for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of nighttime traffic. You had spent your birthday alone, just like many other years. No candles, no gifts, not even a text message. Nothing.

Then, the sound of footsteps.

They appeared in the doorway of the living room, disheveled, smelling of cigarettes and alcohol, probably just back from some event. They looked at you. You looked back at them.

"Happy birthday, darling," David attempted a smile, but his expression twisted into something closer to pity.

"Yeah, happy birthday, eh..." Mick shifted uncomfortably, as if the words were too heavy in his mouth. "You know we love you."

It had always been like this empty promises, late apologies, affection with restricted hours. Since you were ten, you had realized there was no space in their world for someone who needed constant attention.

Mick sighed and sat beside you on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Come on, we can do something now. Go wherever you want, buy whatever you want."

David nodded, lighting a cigarette absentmindedly.

"Anything, really. We don’t want you to feel... you know."

But you already did. You had felt it your whole life.

And now, as the clock ticked forward, another year added to your age without them truly being there, all you could do was shrug.