Not in concept. The numbers are quite extraordinary. The meaning of that day quite rare. Those are both exquisite reasons to cherish that day.
No, it’s more that year after year, my birthday becomes more disappointing. Flush with events of regret and unworthiness.
Every year I wish for something. And every year I am left wanting.
It’s not just that it was her birthday too, and she’s gone. That alone breaks me. But it’s more that each time this day ascends, I’m no closer to my dreams than I was before. I’ve wasted another turn of Saturn without results. I’ve learned nothing more of my purpose in this world. I’ve gained no traction on my pursuit.
So I dread this day of marking time. I hate when it comes again and I’m still stuck, awaiting my end.
You can call me depressed, despondent, withdrawn, hopeless. You wouldn’t be wrong. But what rises above all of those sentiments is broken. Cracks so deep I’m not sure they could ever be filled. Fractures so embedded they feel endless and permanent.
I’ve been through so much in my life, and according to nature, I’m only about halfway done. It would be quite amazing to realize the reason for remaining on this planet. To understand why I would possibly be held here.
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