It’s 19 April.
Y’know what happens on 19 April? Unless you read my post, last year, you won’t and trust me, I wouldn’t read that because it’s pretentious – OH ARGH I should just shut up and explain.
I call this day my “Not Birthday” because, well, it IS. I was SUPPOSED to be born 16 years ago today, but that… KIND of didn’t happen. I talk about this a LOT on here (by that I mean I mention it sometimes) but I want to again.
Last year, I guess I KNEW how much it all meant, in a way. It seems weird to contemplate life, death and everything – still seems strange – but I’ve got used to asking myself why I’m still alive.
I should have things wrong with me. I should have SOMETHING ELSE besides being blind, because for fuck’s sake, I was born 16 WEEKS EARLY. Except, I don’t. I’ve made it this far, without any major health complications, and I don’t understand WHY.
Even though I’m alive, it seems quite insensitive for me to be “celebrating” when there are so many people who don’t have hope left, or for whom things are horrendous. I know that, and I feel guilty for it all the time – I haven’t had an “I don’t deserve to live as much as other people do” days in a while though.
It’s times like these when I say to myself that even if my life isn’t worth anything in the grand scheme of things, it’s worth something to ME. Last year and a bit the year before, I celebrated – morbidly – about how I was okay and everything was okay with my body besides the eyes.
I’ve grown up. Over the last year, I’ve been a bitch, got my heart stamped on by someone who didn’t even know they were doing it, hurt people emotionally, etc etc. I thought, stupidly, that a year ago I was mature enough to deal with a relationship, but now, I’ve set my boundaries for one and I KNOW what I’m not okay with. I won’t lie – two years ago I was an immature little shit.
But I’ve changed. I’ve changed, and I’m going to live and realise there’s more to life than dwelling on the past, or my birth, or my LIFE for extended periods of time.
I’m not an inspiration. I’m me, and I have a blog; I’m alive.
Sorry this was a terrible post, but ehh.
From Elm 🙂