Have you ever wondered how weird the concept of a birthday can be? Weird in the sense that it is, above all else, perfectly normal? What I mean is the whole concept of measuring time can be so weird when you think about it. The need to interrupt something so...consistent. Provided, it does make a considerable amount of sense when one takes in the existential view into account, but who uses logic nowadays anyway? Psh, foolish mortals.
In any instance, this post was supposed to be done last week after the passing of the twenty third year after the day of my birth. But, as per usual, I got caught up in life and didn't have time to finish this. Realistically speaking, I don't really have time now either, but hey, sleep is overrated.
So...what was I talking about again? Oh yea, time. So I guess this is the point where I start talking about this amazing epiphany I had about life last Friday I had when I realized I am now twenty three years old. Well, at least that's what I am supposed to be talking about. But it's difficult to ramble on about something that never quite happened. Funnily enough, my brain has a tendency to have these little spurts of realization every day, making special occasions such as these, well, not quite so special. To be honest I don't really feel that's such a bad thing. Though the ability to turn things off occasionally would always be a nice plus.
That being said, I have been so utterly content with life it's unsettling. I love it.