On my birthdays I always wake up feeling somewhat nostalgic and dim. It might be the social pressure of having to make it a special day, having to celebrate, or that I don't particularly cherish the fact of organising parties for myself. It might be the realisation of time passing. Or it might be that my birthday is, for me, a time to sum up wishes and achievements and see where I'm at, and this always turns into a very depressing and dramatic inner dialogue, which is not the lightest way to approach a day of celebrations.
Despite all this, I also usually take the occasion to look at who I am (not only what I have or have done) and I usually realise that I am quite happy and satisfied with the person I am. I might not be where I'd like to in terms of geography, career, sentimental relationships, wealth, or whatever, but I am quite proud of the person I've become so far (there's obviously still a lot of space for growth, and I'm happily learning progressively each day!).
Most of all, I am most grateful to all the people and situations that have led me here, being them "positive" or "negative".
Every year on 9th June I thank my mother for bearing me in her body and delivering me to this world of light, for fighting against gravity and feeding me and teaching me things and scolding me and being absent and being present and loving me no matter what and making me doubt she does and confirming she does and being strong for me and being strong for herself and being weak for herself, for helping me and needing help, for being near and being far.
I thank my mother's mother and all the people with some bits of my blood in their blood and I thank everyone I've exchanged words with, everyone I've exchanged warmth with (being it literal or abstract).
I am grateful for the people who've said happy birthday, the ones that frowned at me, the ones that congratulated me, the ones that envied me, that ones I envied, the ones that loved me and hated me, the ones I've loved and hated, the ones that smiled at me crossing my path and then left without knowing my name.
Each little bit made me what I am, and I have joyfully received them and collected them, trying to make the best of them, trying to become a better person each day.
I love my life, I love this sun (sometimes visible, sometimes not, it's always there!), I love this earth, I love this time, I love myself and all of you and them.
A very merry unbirthday to you! :)
I'm certain that people should be reading your blogs, maybe commenting. You are an exceptional, multitalented artist and you project a soul that should be the envy of all. God loves you, Valerio and I do too.
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