I honestly can’t remember the last time I was truly excited to celebrate my birthday. None of it ever really appealed to me. Why would I want to have money spent on one day of the year, physically acknowledging my birth? It seemed wasteful. Now, whenever I received food and gifts, it did make the day better but ultimately they did nothing to change the outlook my soul was rotting in. After all, I only end up being a day older and closer to death, right? The joy.
I’ve always wondered how I would react if I were able to step into someone else’s shoes and had the chance to catch a glimpse of myself, to have the joyful experience that they say they have when time is spent with me. I always thought that would be the only way I could bring any value to my life: knowing the truth in the mind of another person of just why they show such love back to me. It is easy for someone to say they love you, but it is also the hardest reality to believe.
Something clicked this year. I’m not sure what exactly made it happen; maybe I do know but am reluctant to share so it has been hidden in my heart of hearts. Maybe I am, finally, coming out of the depths of depression or maybe it’s because, somehow, my own life has bloomed into a precious treasure right before my eyes. A part of a vexing fog has been lifted and I was genuinely ecstatic for my birthday. Needless to say, I cannot wait to see what I am going to do with this life I have been given because, maybe, I’m finally ready to start living.