TIFU WISH

The Midnight Wish

There’s something magical about birthdays. For most people, they are just days on the calendar, a reminder of another year gone by. But for me, her birthday was always different. It wasn’t just about cake, candles, or the sound of people singing out-of-tune songs. It was about a feeling—a memory of something I once felt so strongly that it stayed with me, year after year.

Every year, as the clock crept toward midnight, I would find myself waiting, phone in hand, my heart beating faster than it had any right to. It was my ritual. At 12:00 AM sharp, I would wish her “Happy Birthday.” Not because it was just polite or friendly, but because once, a long time ago, I had a crush on her. Maybe more than a crush. Maybe it was something I never had the courage to fully admit.

I remember those days when just talking to her felt like the highlight of my week. We were close, or at least I thought we were. She was the kind of person who could make a simple conversation feel like music. I’d replay her laughter in my mind, like a song I didn’t want to forget.

But life isn’t always a perfect story.

Somewhere along the way, something shifted. We fought. I can’t even remember how it started—maybe it was something small, a misunderstanding, or maybe we just stopped understanding each other. What I do remember is that, after that fight, she started treating me differently. Not with hate, not with anger—just… indifference. And indifference hurts more than anger ever could.

When someone you care about no longer sees your value, it’s like you’re standing in a room screaming, but they’ve already walked out and closed the door. I kept trying to fix things, to show her that I cared, but somewhere deep inside, I knew the truth: I cared too much, and she cared too little.

Now, as her birthday arrives once again, I sit here, phone in hand, staring at the screen. My fingers hover over the keyboard. I could type out a simple “Happy Birthday.” It would take less than five seconds. But should I?

Does she even want to hear from me?

I think back to the times I stayed up just to be the first one to wish her. She never asked me to, but I wanted to. I wanted to be the person who made her smile, even if it was just for a second. But now, I wonder—does it even matter to her? Would my message be just another notification she ignores?

The truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared of sending that message and being met with silence, or worse, a cold, polite “Thank you” that feels like a wall between us. It’s strange how someone who once meant so much can start to feel like a stranger.

But as I sit here thinking, I realize something important: birthdays aren’t about the past. They’re about the present. About wishing someone well, no matter what’s happened. Wishing her doesn’t mean I’m weak. It doesn’t mean I’m desperate. It simply means I have a heart, and I care.

Maybe I won’t get the response I want. Maybe she won’t value me the way I once hoped. But that’s okay. Because sometimes, doing the right thing is not about getting something back—it’s about doing it for yourself, to know that you acted out of kindness, not ego.

I take a deep breath and look at the clock. 11:59 PM. The minutes pass so slowly when you’re unsure of what to do. My thumb hovers over the “Send” button.

And then I smile. Not because I know what the future holds, but because I know my answer. I’ll wish her. Not at midnight, not because of tradition or old feelings, but because I want to.

Maybe it’s just two words: “Happy Birthday.” But those two words carry all the memories of what we once were, all the lessons I’ve learned, and all the hope that even if we’re not close anymore, we can still share a moment of kindness."TL;DR:"

I press send.

And in that small act, I let go of the past—not because I forget it, but because I finally understand that caring doesn’t need to be returned to be Should I wish or not "TL;DR:"