Robert Goren hated his birthday. Even at a young age when other boys and girls counted down the days months ahead and begged for the best gift; he didn't. Whenever his mother mentioned the idea of having a party, with cake dripping down with icing, silly games he'd always refuse. Bobby's father figured it was because he was a wuss and didn't like the other kids. On his eighth birthday he was forced to have a party and demanded by his father to have fun. That day Bobby spent locked in his closet refusing to come out despite his father yelling how much of a disappointment he was. It wasn't that Bobby didn't want the attention and he loved chocolate cake just as much as the next kid, it was his mother. Her moods, the yelling, the crying, and laughing that could occur within minutes. She always seemed to embarrass him. It was his birthday but he knew she'd receive the attention.
Now older and moved out. Adjusted to able to understand life as a boy; he still hated his birthday. This time because no one seemed to care.
