As my second birthday approaches, I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. Unlike many children who might be anticipating a day filled with gifts and celebrations, my situation is quite different. I am homeless, and this milestone brings with it a heavy sense of uncertainty.
Living on the streets has its own set of challenges. The days blend together in a blur of survival, with each one demanding a new way to cope with hunger, cold, and loneliness. I often see other children playing, their laughter a stark reminder of what I am missing. My birthday, usually a time of joy and festivity, feels overshadowed by my daily struggles.
The thought of celebrating my birthday without a home or a family to share it with is disheartening. I imagine a day without cake or presents, just another ordinary day spent searching for a safe place to sleep. Yet, amid the hardship, there is a flicker of hope. I hold onto the possibility that someone might notice me, that I might find a kind soul who could offer a bit of warmth and comfort on my special day.
The reality of my situation is harsh, but I dream of a future where I am no longer defined by my homelessness. My birthday wish is simple: to be seen, to be cared for, and to have a place where I truly belong. As I approach my second birthday, I hold onto that hope, hoping that with time, my circumstances will change, and I will finally find a place to call home.