I have seen people get upset when someone forgets their birthday.
I’ve seen people hurt because someone didn’t wish them on their anniversary.
I’ve seen friendships become strained because a message wasn’t sent at exactly 12:00 AM.
And honestly, I understand that.
Because I used to think that way too.
There was a time when birthdays felt important.
A missed wish felt personal.
A remembered date felt like proof that someone cared.
And an early wish—especially the first wish—felt like proof that you mattered more than everyone else.
Then life happened.
Work happened.
Marriage happened.
Responsibilities happened.
And somewhere along the way, I realized something.
Some of my closest relationships had slowly become nothing more than:
“Happy Birthday.”
“Happy Anniversary.”
“Congratulations.”
And then…
Silence again.
One day, I caught myself asking a question that changed how I looked at relationships:
Why are we remembering the date, but forgetting the person?
And then I realized that many of us don’t just measure relationships by birthdays and anniversaries anymore.
We measure them by:
- Who wished us first.
- Whether the wish came exactly at midnight.
- Whether they posted our photo on WhatsApp Status.
- Whether they shared an Instagram Story.
- Whether they made a Facebook post.
- Whether they tweeted about us.
- Whether they sent an email greeting.
- Whether they publicly acknowledged us.
And if they didn’t, we quietly conclude that we matter less.
But what are we really measuring?
Love?
Friendship?
Care?
Or simply our position in someone else’s priority list for that particular day?
Neither side is wrong.
Life gets busy.
People remember differently.
People express care differently.
And people carry burdens we often know nothing about.
Yet we continue treating timestamps as proof of affection.
We treat social media visibility as proof of importance.
We treat public acknowledgment as proof of emotional closeness.
But are they?
A remembered date is not always proof of a deep relationship.
And a forgotten date is not always proof of a weak one.
Some people remember your birthday every single year.
They send messages at midnight.
They post your pictures publicly.
They write long captions.
But they have no idea what is actually happening in your life.
I admit—I have been guilty of doing this myself.
And then there are people who couldn’t tell you your date of birth if their life depended on it.
Yet they know when you’re struggling.
They notice when you’ve changed.
They sense when something feels wrong.
They remember your fears.
They remember your dreams.
They know when you’ve grown.
And sometimes, without any occasion at all, they simply ask:
“Are you okay?”
That, to me, means far more than remembering a date.
I’ve also realized that my energy is precious.
I don’t want to spend it feeling hurt because someone forgot a birthday.
And I don’t want others spending their energy being hurt because I forgot one.
Because the truth is, life is already asking so much from all of us.
People are building careers.
Raising children.
Supporting parents.
Managing marriages.
Paying bills.
Carrying grief.
Fighting silent battles.
Trying to survive days that nobody else sees.
And while they’re doing all of that, we expect them to remember dates, timings, order of wishes, social media posts, and public displays of affection.
Perhaps we have unintentionally turned relationships into scorecards.
But relationships were never meant to be scorecards.
They were meant to be spaces where human beings feel seen, understood, and supported.
The older I get, the less I care about who wished me first.
The less I care about midnight messages.
The less I care about WhatsApp statuses, Instagram stories, Facebook posts, tweets, and public acknowledgments.
And the more I care about who stays.
Who listens.
Who notices.
Who shows up.
Who remembers the person instead of the occasion.
Because in the end, we don’t truly live through birthdays, anniversaries, notifications, or social media posts.
We live through presence.
We live through understanding.
We live through compassion.
And we live through the moments when someone chooses to be there for us—
even when there is absolutely no occasion at all.
— Kesari Babu
Credits: @speak.with.power (Instagram)





