It is that time again. Time to shed the skin, hatch from the egg, discard the cocoon, shred my wings, crawl back up and tangle myself in the web again. Bleed my eyes and let the ink dry on my skin. It is the last day of 31, and tomorrow is my birthday.
Many people say your birthday is just another day. True, but every holiday, anniversary, good days, bad days…are just that, another day. Maybe instead of New Years’ Resolutions, we should do that on birthdays. It can be your own personal day of self-reflection and make promises to yourself that at this point next year, you met some goal. Just a thought really.
My weekend begins with a nice break from work, filled with friend hangs, a feast from my mom, and fishing with my dad. Just chill vibes followed up by The Chicago Bears tomorrow and the stress of fantasy football. (My religion)
During this week off I have many plans of reading, writing, and catching up on all of the other shit I have to get done. I’ll be more busy than relaxed for the next 10 days. I need to hear the sounds reflecting my soul’s repressed peace.
It’s time to let the bitterness go, but would it really be me if I wasn’t? Self-identification can be a curse. Look at today’s world and everyone wants to be a specific flavor based on nothing.
Earn who you want to be. Don’t say it, prove it. I shall begin