Birthday has come and gone, like any other day. I could opine about how particularly cruel fate seems but that seems pointless. Seems incredibly American to think that an individual is owed happiness, that sort of logic is the last gift of American exceptionalism and it is the sort of thinking that needs to be thrown out. There is only the promise of happiness, but it’s the sort of promise that says from an acorn will sprout a mighty oak; promise does not equate an actual guarantee.
So I admit that the world seems cruel and unfair, and it is incredibly confusing and confounding to myself fail time and time again; but that’s life. What stupid shit was I read as child to think that I would be “happy” at any point in my existence? The one thing I have always counted on is that suffering is the one absolute in life. There is no such thing as fair, because life dosent give a shit; it moves on and all anyone can do is keep up and stop second guessing everything. There are no happy ending, and big fucking deal I have my health and that’s something I suppose.
I thought I wanted something simple from the fates, and it never happened; probably never will, but fuck it- that’s life. It might not ever ease the deeply felt poetic longing, but I do have some things that make life bearable. I have friends and family, who I think probably like/ are concerned/ possibly have an emotion that can be described as “love” towards me. That’s something, it might be a very small thing but it is nice to know there are people who are out there that are concerned for your humble narrator. It’s a warmish feeling, and especially in such a shit year and on the old birthday it’s nice to know they are out there.
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