Hey hey hey
I remember few years ago on this same day, my mates were already waiting for me by 12 to beat me very well. I still don’t know where that idea to beat people on their birthdays came from; but it eventually led to me crying.
Imagine. They beat me so hard, I actually started to cry real tears. Lol. My roommate (who was a senior) had to send everyone out of our room so I could sleep; but they still beat me during the day. Mschew.
I know they used to beat and pour water on everyone on their birthdays, but I guess mine was worse because I was mean. It was the only way they could get back at me. Haha.
As I said here, I don’t feel many of the butterflies I used to feel as a child on this day. It doesn’t seem like my birthday, but, it is.
I can’t tell if this feeling is a lack of gratefulness or some kinda emptiness, but it’s a lie; because I’m eternally grateful to see this day again. It might not look exactly the way I’ll have painted my life on my own; but I’m glad I don’t get to even paint my own life. There’s a better artist than me and He knows how to paint broken and unusable things into beautiful artwork.
That’s what He’s doing with my life.
As I prayed before bed yesterday, I told Him I’m very grateful because if I was Him; I’ll have snapped me out te te! I’ll have become so tired of my own inconsistency that I’ll have drawn life out at any more mistake; but the painter has kept me till now.
Dear diary, how can I not be grateful?
I even thought I’ll write myself a letter; probably to my younger or older self, but I really don’t know if I have words like that. I doubt I have the ability to express myself. In fact, I think it’s much better to write myself a letter, the me of today, because there’s so much I want to tell Mobolaji.
I hope she’ll listen and not let her heart wander around.
It doesn’t seem like it, but it’s my birthday and I’m grateful.
Dear diary, it’s your turn, what would you like to tell Mobolaji? She’s listening.
Love and light…