Happy birthday to me. Well, a few days ago anyways. It really wasn't terrible. I typically dread them because they have a tendency of ending so badly. I spent most of it by myself, really.
I played with fire.... And scorched my kitchen chairs.
Flowers. Delivered without a name. Mysterious.
Birtday cake.
After a long weeked -- of both the good, the terrible, the better, and the beautiful -- the sun set. Before I blinked it was over, and time ticked on. Before I knew it, the day that is representative of the day I began my test in life was finished. I don't feel any different -- if you dont count the panic. I am 1/4th dead. I have one arm in my grave. Why did I spend so much of my time wasting away, and worrying about things of so little consequence? Did I do everything I wanted to do? Did I do anything important or influential at all? Did I touch a soul? Did I change a life?
I don't think I did. But hiding under my blankets (as I am now), will probably not change that outlook. Should I make yet another promise to be better only to feel as if I have failed myself once again, or should I make no such promise and feel accomplished when I succeed at being nothing?
~C
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QyVfs5G2uA&feature=relmfu
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