birthdays

birthdays are strange and I struggle with them. as a child I remember wishing time would hurry up. I was so excited to grow up, and each year my birthday seemed to excite me like nothing else would. times have changed, and I envy the joy who once groaned over how slow time passed. birthdays remind me now of aging, that I’m growing older despite nothing seeming any clearer. there’s an expectation to entertain at least some of the excitement I once struggled to control as a child over these obligatory celebrations, though I’m struggling to play along this year. my relationship with time and myself only grows colder with each passing year. sometimes I wish I never sobered to the constant ticking of the clock. I can’t ignore it now.

the missing continues despite the growing distance and the ticking. I’m not sure what to do, though I doubt I’ve ever known. << x