Quarter of a century.

I dig my toes into the sand, the ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket. I lean against the wind, pretend that I am weightless, and in this moment I am happy. I wish you were here. I wish you were. I wish.

It’s been a while since I last really listened to Incubus. Perhaps it would be a bit weird if I listened to the exact same music I did 10 years ago? (Editor’s note: the first paragraph was the starting lyrics of Incubus – Wish You Were Here, not some resurfacing teenage angst.)

Birthdays are wonderful in many ways. The main niceness about them is getting mauled by all the lovely people and getting so many hugs. Today did not turn out to be as glamorous as perhaps the 25th would require, but geez, being a grown up, birthdays do lose their magic. This is not to say I do not appreciate the lovely wishes. If all these happies actually went into action, I would not have to worry about the next three quarter centuries. I bow to you, my dear ones. You really make it worthwhile. Don’t mean to get all soppy now, but you do. I love you, my people.

When big numbers hit, one sometimes gets overcome by random introspection, so that happened today, too. I’ve possibly got the craziest and one of the most important years ahead of me. I’ve fixated some ideas that might bite me in the arse, and I’ve somehow got the feeling of this year being … significant. In whatever way possible. I don’t know. So let this be a mental note of me thinking to myself “something is up”. Let’s look back in a year and see what happened.

It’s a mix of sadness and anticipation that introduces yet another spin around the Sun in my life. Where the sadness comes from, I don’t know either. Ok fine, I’ll admit it. I would quite like it if I wasn’t alone typing this. *Slips out in embarrassment.*

I’d rather swim to the moon.


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