22

I find it hard to find meaning in birthdays.
I believe in the necessity to celebrate ones life, but, for me,
it's less of a celebration and more of a reminder.
I'm a year older, but nothing has changed. Nothing.
I have reached major milestones in my life, yet,
nothing has changed. And I can't help but focus on them.
I can't help but think about everything I have not done,
and everything I need to do by this time next year.
Thank God I've made it to another year,
but I thank God more for the 365 days that got me here.
Seeing another year is not an achievement when I've survived the previous days.
Thank God I woke up day after day after day.
Thank God for those days when nothing truly happened.
For days when I hate the rain and days when I'm dancing in it.
For days when I didn't know what I was going to eat,
and days when my belly had an abundance.
Thank God for the days when I didn't think I would make it out of the bed.
For days when I need to send a letter, buy pens, and shave.
Days when I run from wasps and welcome butterflies.
Days when I'm cleaning a bedroom so calamitous
that I fall asleep in the middle of the floor...with the light still on.
Days when I can't stand to see myself in the mirror,
and days I admire the imperfections of my skin.
Thank God for the ordinary days that turn into another year.
Thank God for the unforgettable days woven in between.
And at this very moment, I think I found the meaning in birthdays.
Happy Birthday to me. Thank God for another year.