Birthday girl

Birthdays together with New Years Eves are probably the only two days out of 365 when most of us ponder over the past year’s achievements, failures, strokes of luck, misfortunes... Those more lucky ones, who had been born on December 31, or January 1, can be really thankful for such an advantage to be spared of one dreadful day in addition. Both days stike me as very contradictory and confusing. On one hand you HAVE TO have fun “because it’s your birthday“, or “because it’s NYE“ but on the other hand they are days that cetrainly carry a sort of depressing message. On your birthday you start to feel a year older and especially when turning 20, 30, 40, and all those round numbers, you feel like a decade passed you by and all plans you had for those past 10 years which were never done or fulfilled are proofs of your failure. You are fully aware you will never be younger than you are now and all of a sudden all the wasted days, meaningless hours, unproductive minutes pop out in your mind transforming into a big creepy mouth laughing at you how pathetic you are. It is the same with the New Year’s resolutions that you forget about on the third of January but come nastily back to you when the year is over to remind you how weak your power of will is. Pure misery. And you are supposed to have fun? (Moreover when almost all of my birthday parties and New Years Eve parties ended up a catastrophe). I don’t see how that’s supposed to be fun. But that’s just me. Don’t take me too seriously, in fact I love those days. Like I love irony.

Birthday girl

Astounded by the image in the mirror

Up and down her spine crawls the shiver.

A year that passed by in an eye-blink

Shaped in a tear as dark as black ink,

Now forever evanesces down the sink.

Thoughts frozen to reminiscences

Playing hide and seek with her senses

And she contemplates all when and whys,

Good-byes and bad buys,

Break ups and break downs,

Solid airs, moving grounds,

Single choices, double mistakes,

Triple Johnnies, Jims and Jacks,

With whom she cried rivers and lakes.

She collected all memories, put them in a vase

And locked them up safe just in case.

For tonight she wears a princess’ crown

Red lipstick turned her to be the clown

Who painted a smile to conceal the frown.