The Younger Daze.

I celebrated my 19th birthday yesterday. 

A day into being nineteen, and here I am. This moment, right here, is perfect. 

Well, almost.

I wish I were basking in the glow of a million candles at my desk while writing with a delightfully scratchy fountain pen; crimson ink staining the pages of a weather-worn diary. I wish I had a coffee mug at arm's reach, deliciously chipped at the right places, and a cup crafted for citrus juices. I am too adrift from myself to tell you my favourite novel, but I'd want it nearby too. I wish I were experiencing a white winter. The blanket of white, the promise of renewal; that's something I'd like to see. I wish for a lot of things, and birthdays only make me appreciate the brief history of time between yesterday and today, then and now, you and me. 

I'm not one to make resolutions, but I'd like to find a great book this year. The figures sketched in its pages might impress me as my own, or might resolve something for me. I wish a book enters my life at exactly the right moment. Like people, they tend to appear too early when I'm too intimidated to appreciate it, or too late, when its significance has been captured more wholly by someone else. I want to be as unsettled by a book as enchanted by it. 

Today I am nineteen, and relatively untroubled by questions of identity and individuality. I know the person I am, and I'm on my way to being the person I always wanted to be. The stupidity of mankind is infinite, and yet, intelligence is what separates everyone. I revel in the sheer magnitude of all I have to absorb this year. 

Happy (belated) Birthday to me. :)

I hope everyone finds happiness this new year. :)