The words echo in my mind like a relentless drumbeat, taunting me, reminding me of my perceived inadequacies. But is it true? Will my appearance truly determine whether or not I deserve to be acknowledged on my birthday?

As I drag myself out of bed and begin to navigate through the routines of the day, the weight of those words hangs over me like a dark cloud. I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror – features that others might deem unattractive, flaws that seem magnified under the harsh scrutiny of society's standards. But does that make me any less deserving of love, of kindness, of recognition on this day that is supposed to be mine?