Contemplation

I, once, had thought of promising myself that I’d give a speech on my birthday. Last week, though, I promised myself I’d think of one. Last night, I gave it.

Only it had to be silly and stupid but still very much profound at the same time. I figured that if I would be completely sober, I wouldn’t be able to deliver it, or, if I had, it wouldn’t sound profound enough. It wouldn’t even sound silly. It would only, quite definitely, sound utter stupid.

Luckily, I had friends who care enough about me, and enough to encourage me not to be completely sober while I would be promising a silly and stupid, but still very much profound, speech. Of course, what sort of friends would they be if they let me be only stupid? Well, of course they would be the stupid sort of friends.

So, it goes without saying, that my friends are, in fact, very intelligent. So intelligent, that they created the perfect series of situations and provided the right amounts of intoxicating substances and then they all left but one; the one whom I ought to speak with, the only who could hear me out, contain it, and promise me that everything is going to be just fine. I believed her and carried on to say this:

If one would take something (or to be exact, nothing) that does not exist, look at it, contemplate it, and think in many ways about it, it would become a whole world, a universe. It would become everything.

Only a few people that I met during the recent years that I shared nothing with, or, say, in between. However, for the ones that I did share nothing with, I befriended, I nourished, and I contemplated their presence endearingly everyday. Eventually, a world came about, shared between us. Some worlds stood out above the rest, some were satiated with life and gave it to others, and some I fell in love with.

What I hold dear to myself were not those people as such, but what the worlds we created together. And, as I live in those worlds, I live in them, in, say, a common continuum. I share their love and despair, their joy and sadness. What I am today is the product of their hopes and wishes, and the residual of their memories.

To all, and to the rest of us.

This morning I woke up and had a strange feeling that I had strange feeling about. I felt, strangely, that I was very happy with how my birthday went the day before, specially because I seem to remember that I’ve managed to give a silly and stupid but a profound speech, but I felt, strangely, that everything is going to be just fine.