It’s my birthday and no matter how you look at it am grown now and no one can take that away from me even though I would want to do that myself. Take away some numbers so I may remain younger forever. Who would have thought, well, we all knew we would grow those hairs someday. And it’s quite funny cos we wished for this, prayed for this and even cried real tears just to be a man someday sooner. Well, as a birthday gift to you I write this, I may be wrong but I hope am right. And try your very best not to judge first, most often I thirst for wine but I don’t take in alcohol so I pretend to be drunk and I get hyper in my own thoughts, sit in my fake-cloud nine and share a toast with God. Maybe that’s how it works. Every year is my birthday, but how do I live every day of it. It comes am happy, and it’s gone again. Should I wait every year or make it an everyday celebration. Every year I do nothing when it comes, am happy, then it’s gone again. It’s like a loop, from this day to the next same day of the next year. It is boring living the same life over and over again, happy then it’s gone again.
I write this piece in all sincerity, and I hope you really don’t judge. Imagine there is no religion, no GOD, no devil; what would be right and what would be wrong? Who would measure, how would the balance work? A feather and a stuck of gold? Or a white linen and a peace-loving man at the other side? Would a man be right to kill because he craves for it? And who are you to judge? Can you take away his gun and pat him on the head and say “come on son! You’ve been a bad boy, Can you? I believe without religion there would be no bases for morality, whether it’s right or wrong depends on each individual and his or her way of seeing things. Which will you prefer; a fantasy that preserves life or a reality that takes it away? Let’s assume the BIBLE is a lie, let’s assume the BIBLE is a self-exhorting dictator who preaches; love, faith, friendship, family and life preservation. Why would you hate such a lie?
And to sober myself, I calm myself down with the hope that someday I will walk on the street of gold, I may be wrong I may be right. But wouldn’t it be beautiful? You are judged for a stand you took so you build a stockade to shield you from the fingers, you scream “I don’t believe anymore, I never did” just so you can live. Whether it’s wrong or right, it’s who you are. Yes, but what is your measure? I may end here, but I ask when will you stop fighting and start living. And also don’t live for anything, live for something.