Happy Birthday nyam!



Its a late post

I think I have to write something. Well, I mean this is THE birthday. Her birthday to be exact. The girl with a special place, The woman with so much grace. You might have known her through various traits, many characters, and different experiences. It is the world’s will – an undeniable decree – that everybody is perceived differently depends on the seeing eyes. Yet still, it is also an undeniable fact, that ‘she’, evcerything she ever was and ever will be, is seen through the face and voice and gestures of a single entity.

Recently I knew her as ‘The girl’. She carries a violin and by her side, is a dog that looks like the dog from the first 2 MIB movies. You’d be surprise how big her dog actually is compared to that talking alien. A fine and happy dog indeed, even with her constant need to be butt-rubbed.

You might also knew her before as the enchanting night empress. Story told of an empty throne she left, giving the sky such impeccable grief that it forces the kingdom to kidnap an atoned women. she then will be sacrificed in the name of the empress for every moon cycle. Yet the story is as unimportant as the protesting second class citizen or the depart of someone we never knew of. What is more important is, that in reality, she stays. Through long days and rough bearings, she is nothing like the empress. She sit lovingly by my side, even with no throne in sight.

Would you be surprised if I say that you can find her within so much more? You can find her sitting with the strangers, watching idly as the Imp’s bridge rose to places she cannot help but to create. She is also in every corner of every quotes, stuck between colors and chosen vectors, along with everything unspoken yet felt.

She is so much of a person; quite a prevalent oddity actually, for something that we might commonly refer as ‘the muse’. At least for me, her presence means endlessness, her absence means to strive. So that’s what I did in the time of her abandonment, I strive to heave my worry, my thoughts and my protests. Through words, long or short, quoted or original, essentially, through writings.

But what of a man who have everything he needs? Would he fear? Would he shout sentences upon sentences of world’s misquality? He will not. He will smile and say that today is a happy day and he will move along with life, holding on whatever he hold dearest unto the dawn that will eventually came.

And yet, I have to write something. Anything not too cheesy or too serious, something witty and playful and dreamy and of course, expected to be romantic.

Something like ‘Happy birthday dear!’ with a lot of smiles and maybe a couple of hugs.

Or maybe a poetic wishes with dark and grim attitude, something that I know she would love.

But I guess I said it all, everything I needed to say. Everything that ever occured to my mind, I said it all directly to her. I usually wrote things that have no answer, secrets hoped to be understood but not said, sometimes a tragedy or two. And  I got none today. She does not need to provide any answer, She IS the answer. I never have to hide anything at all, why should I ever? Sure we had some fights, but that is no tragedy at all, we always ended up laughing about how silly our fights were.



I really have no idea what to write.

I guess I’ll stick with the simple happy birthday then.


P.S. I am no painter, so the drawing is definitely not mine. And of course, she has my most and biggest thank.


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