When I Can't Do Anything Else

Birthdays, and Counting

Time has no rule between us, there is no right and wrong in this world of misfits, the place where criminalities and the goodness of people collide. Where the kinder and the kindest fights for the taste of appreciation. Time is not at its peak; when will it ever be? We grow up, we grow old, but that doesn't define you. We are made up with all the things we have done, and still doing. We are the changing of seasons, whether you love Winter, Summer, Fall or Spring, you will always be an amalgamation of the day's daily uprising. It doesn't matter - and it does, at the same time - if your birthday's today, or tomorrow, next week, in the fortnight, the next month or the next year. You are here to realize that time does not matter, to how it affects you or not; you're here for the sake of being.

What would the numbers tell? If the beginning of time itself added up to itself today? In a world where every decision counts, where every moment should be lived and experienced with every fiber of your being, where the sun rising from the horizon or the moon governing the dark sky at night should be our constant guide that tomorrow will come, where dreary days should be much appreciated; 'cause I know that there's something good'll come out eventually - and trust me, it will. In this world where stars aren't counted - they are adored, stuck between the lashes of our sentience, basking under our gaze, our minds that contains the eagerness to see and unravel the unknown; we are here in this world to grow and be curious. To know the difference of what's not and what is, and to finally get the idea that: Everything matters. This is not about how small we are in this infinitely-expanding universe, this is not about how insignificant we are in the eyes of myriads of galaxies, this is not about something cruel - life, that is.

This is about living. This is about finding your home in this indefinite, but certainly destiny-entwined, world. We are here to do something, and don't let any other person tell you wrong. You are here to love, here to live, you are here to destroy, to create, to experience, to know, to see. You are born not to exist, but to feel. To be curious. You are important in this otherwise big world. Time and space doesn't control you - you bend them at your will. You have the choice. Even if you feel you don't have any, you do.

You keep on living, going on onwards and forwards. Sometimes you might go left, some days you go right, and in your worst days you fall back one to ten steps backwards. But that's the best part of living: You will always find a way to turn it around. Failure and lack of comprehension is a stepping stone when you think you've lost your will to strive, because when you finally understand the most beautiful thing about living; it's that there's no giving up. You wouldn't realize the importance of failure without experiencing it your whole life. A too-smooth arc in your life, no dents, no marks, no scars; a cityscape without the turns, the curves, the colorful lights, and the remarkable differences of height and width and design... boring. Predictable. The absurdity of the idea of life so monotonous saddens me.

You have a destiny. You have a purpose. You have every right in every law to believe that. You are important, inside and out. If you're ever feeling down, or falling down, and you can't go up, try going sideways; it's neither going up or down, right or left, it's about perspective. You are here to live and feel all the possible emotions ever felt. To live and experience what was left for us, to know what memories we should cherish, to find the love our lives, and to know who and what we should live for ourselves or other people. Mark each day with breaths worthily exhaled.

Build your legacy, grow what you've always envisioned yourself to be, fight each day to learn, dwell on the past, but keep on moving forward. Love, and be loved. You are what all the stars envy to become; you are alive. Fill the gaps, and then make new ones, then fill it up again. You are destined to have something to live up on, to keep on striving.

You are one infinite being in your own doing, and god, that makes me feel so, so happy...

It really doesn't matter if your birthday's today, or tomorrow, next week, in the fortnight, the next month or the next year. You are here to realize that time does not matter, to how it affects you or not; you're here for the sake of being. You are here to choose to what you should do with time. They're in your hands, not inside of you. Feel the essence of it? They're there, intangible and unseen, but we're aware of it. Age is just numbers. You are not.

Open your eyes, with a new day laid out in front of you to explore, to feel the ongoing frontier. Have a coffee, have a refill, and notice the morning get darker and darker until the whole black canvas becomes a dome of speckling spectacles; and to where you're standing at this moment, the beauty lies in betwixt the enormity of your own perception of this rare corporality we were bestowed. The stars, the galaxies, the sky that we all share, but we also see differently... The view here is amazing; I hope you see it, too, eventually.

Happy Birthday, and it should be like that always: Happy; because you needn't the time to frown upon this man-made day. A work in progress, we are. Let's make it all worth it at the end, alright? 'Cause it will be, always;

I promise.

//k.u.