HE HATES BIRTHDAYS BY ALEXANDRA LEDNICHENKO

Alexandra (on the left) with her Mom

He hates birthdays. He can't stand presents, because they have to be unwrapped with the air of breathless excitement and exclaimed with gratitude and happiness that he cannot feel. He detests the annual ritual of being approached by his Grandmother to be left with an oily 50 shekels' bill in his hand, a kiss on his cheek, indifference in his heart. ​And he abhors the drawling discord of "Happy Birthday to You" sung for him at yet another smoke-filled pub in drunk voices of his friends joined by those around, when everyone's holding someone's hand while secretly longing for someone else's.

​Loathsome to him are the group text-messages that he, Johnny, Frankie, and hell knows who else, get every year, because they share a date of birth and the questionable honor of having their numbers saved in the phone-book of a girl that barely knows them. Distasteful in his eyes is Anna's habit of getting drunk by his side and launching, just like a train gaining speed, into a monologue about her ex until the first sobs break out, and then she cries and wipes her tears, mascara, and embarrassment on his shoulder. He finds it irritating that Julie and Ben are making out under the flickering lights of the restrooms, thinking that nobody knows. And isn't it revolting that it's the only thing discussed at the table then.

What are ​​​birthdays? Merely a reason for other people to disguise their loneliness, while pretending they're celebrating the number of years you've rounded up with.

But this year it will be different. This time he'll run away into the jungles. He'll cancel his Grandmother, and friends, and stupid presents. He will cancel on his Mother and the tears she sheds on his every birthday over the boy she lost in the 2006 Lebanon War.

This time he won't be there to see any of that.

This birthday he will spend lying on a pile of leaves, enjoying lions and tigers that wear true patches and real colors. As they sooth his pain away with their dark blues, he won't ask himself what day it is, who he is, what he's done, or what will he do. It will be just a perfect day with real tigers and lions.