Cold February Days (5)

I am at the party. I drunk too much, I do sometimes, don’t get me wrong, I have an excuse; a solid one, today is my birthday you see. Friends came, good people, nice ones cool. They are my temporary viewers, they come they go and they come again, I am like the view, I remain, they like me, I like them too, I’ve mentioned it before I like my people.

I "the view", carefully I notice them. Their nods, smiles, their postures and body language their facial expressions, their gleaming eyes. Ifi’s face, her black hair, Elina’s lips and thin figure, Eva’s worried and tired look, Maria’s playful smile, Nas’ hands as he moves them while he talks, Martin’s British discretion, all of them beautiful, all of them came today here for me.

I wanted to go the hospital but for what? No one celebrates death, no one celebrates a mutilated life a broken one, it’s scary, it’s cruel, it’s true. Don’t get me wrong I would have gone I needed to see with my own eyes but I am scared. I might get inebriated with sadness I don’t want that, not to today. Today I am turning 28 I am celebrating. In Greek they wish you many years, in English they say happy birthday, in French it’s the same and in Dutch they congratulate you. I always thought the Dutch way funny. Congratulations for growing up and being raised up and surviving in a well organized western society, where everything you need is one minute away, congratulations for staying alive amidst the difficulties and the dilemmas of should I take the car of should I use the metro or should I take instead my bike. Congratulations for being alive in a society where you can actually chose to become vegetarian and refuse the food that is given to you. I thought it was funny… now I do not.

When you have everything then you get the chance to think about other things, you have the luxury of being sad, most of the times you don’t even know why. The luxury of melancholia, a dark but not an ugly feeling, a sad beauty, maybe people are meant to be sad, being sad is easy being happy, truly, honestly, is difficult I reckon. Being Sad it's easier than being Happy... You see S A D only three letters, H A P P Y five and one is double… Tricky... !!!

My father was not happy, my friend was not happy either, both of them were more than just unhappy they were drained completely of hope they were empty shells. Life is ironic, there is a power into humanity, maybe is in scripted our genes and awakes during the grimmest hours, when people understand the danger of their extinction, understand the danger of not surviving.  Wars, famine, sicknesses, disasters and you see them fighting to stay alive and survive, for them life is not insignificant I think.  There is a certain kind of freedom when there is nothing there that can be lost except our own existence; you just do everything you can to stay alive. They didn’t.