I never write anything for my birthdays because of how awfully detached I feel. Almost unearthly.
But I realized that birthdays can be an acknowledgment of "look. I am here, alive. Even after all this". Because of how fickle life is.
Most days breathing seems forced upon us.

We wake up, unprepared to live, unready to unfold the affairs of the day. But life isn't live prepared. It's just lived.
Days may fall around like rain or sometimes sunlight. All we can do is watch them, live through them, and can only hope for more sunlight.

After all, you cannot beg sun for more sun or rain to less rain. You just have to make the best of the weather regardless of what it offers.