pause.
Some birthdays are a low key affair. Story of my life, maybe.
Another year older. Life goes on. Another plot tomorrow. Another on friday. Then that's 46 more to go.
It was nice to play badminton with my brother and dad again. Just like old times. It prompted me to reminisce how far we've come... how much we've grown. Dammit I'm 22 and he's 20, ALREADY? And we've been doing this - badminton - since we were, what, 8? 9?
How the time has passed between us.
I was giving some thought to birthday wishes and all those kinds of nonsense. And arrived at a question... something to think very hard about on my 22nd year on this earth...
How do I reconcile my need for adventure, excitement, fulfillment (how will I ever quell my restless, wandering, discontented heart?) with the homebody side of me (the side that gets lonely and isn't strong enough to tide that loneliness through, that doesn't dare, that wants to indulge herself forever in the company of family and friends and familiarity and the hope that nothing will ever change)?
How can I bring myself even closer still to the person I want to be, how can I overcome the inertia, the somnolence, the mundanity, the anaesthetic of familiarity?
This was something that plagued me throughout my time in Toronto, and which will plague me still, until I concretize my path post-graduation.
***
I know it's silly, but you want to know why I can't talk to you? Because he's my brother - the only one I have - and sometimes it feels like you took him away from me.
Maybe I just never held on tightly enough to begin with.
And really, the curse of being a girl must be the curse of reading too much into everything, all of the time.