Happy 48th Birthday To Me

When we were young, life was far from perfect.

I lived under someone else’s roof and moved from one family to another throughout my growing up days. Yet it was okay, because the power of being at the beginning part of life lies in the fact that we could hope that bad situations would change when we gained control as we grew bigger, stronger, and wiser. Most wishes start with “when I grow up I will…” do this and do that. Change this and change that.

Now we are where we wished we would be, in control and in power. And then you realise, in the most painful way, that life continues to be beyond your grasp. And disappointing circumstances persist in being a constant. Nothing has changed. Except now there is no future to wish upon. I can’t start each wish with “when I grow up” anymore.

And when we grow up and old, we fall sick. Sick in the mind, sick in health. Sick of fear and regrets.

So what’s it all about? Don’t tell me it’s all about the journey again. If all those tumultuous paths lead to such dismay, then I honestly think it is rather meaningless. I would rather be born a cat and know not the sinistres of the human world.

So when a happy moment comes along, celebrate it, laugh and sing to it. That’s all the love we will remember.

I may not have amazing victories but I can amaze you with defeats that I came out of alive.—Chekhov.

Happy birthday to me.