I am tired and drowsy after what has been a long day. The calculus test was miserable and my life is even more miserable. In fact all this miserableness, patheticness, and dumb-fuckery, started twenty years ago today, or so claims my birth certificate.
Ah yes, it is my birthday for those who did not understand that reference. The day of my birth. The day I came to this world. The day I was pushed o- you get the point. And though I am not a big fan of birthdays, I lack the life part which seems to be an eminent requirement for these things, it seems that my friends are. I love them for that.
So this is a thank you, feebly written with a migraine and a cup of chai, but a thank you nevertheless. I know it is not worth the happiness you brought me in cakes and fairy lights . But I doubt I will ever be able to find the words to encompass this feeling of being loved. So here is Farees, saying thank you for a change instead of the “fuck-you” you will hear the other 364 days. Not to say that I don’t appreciate you all the rest of the days that are not my birthday, it’s just I can’t find the niceness in me to bother or
maybe I am just not good at expressing positive emotions. Or maybe you guys are really annoying 364 days a year.
I’m glad though you found the niceness in you to bother. While, I could write a loving rant on the muffler and collage separately, and they would in their own rights suck as badly as whatever the fuck this is, I would rather write about the best gift of all.
The surprise. The I walk in bamboozled part. The laughter part. The hug part. The picking-me-up part. The part with the pictures. The part with the fork joke. The part where I had to
unwillingly share the cake. The part where you put the cake on my face in places I couldn’t lick it off. Everything. All of you. Saiba, Abhi, Shruti, Arslaan, Sarwat and John.
I love all of you.
PS: I swear I am better at writing than this but it made me really happy and happiness doesn’t make for good writing unfortunately.
*Looks at Abhi* If you know what I mean.