It's my birthday today. I never really got the hype about birthdays. They just remind me overrated bands. Quite a number of people have wished me "Happy birthday!" since I woke up 4 hours ago. I don't feel disappointed that some friends didn't wish me "Happy birthday!" even though we're virtually talking with each other, but at the same time, I think I would have liked it if they did. Whether or not they remember my birthday isn't very important, but I consider it as... some sort of added bonus. Of course, I'd rather have a super loyal, trustworthy and caring friend who doesn't remember my birthday than one who remembers it but is a hypocrite. 'It'. Interesting how I instinctively treated it as a being. As if it has a life of its own, or is a part of me. I'm suddenly seeing it as a pimple that pops out once in a year. And when it pops out, people start showing concern but when the day is over and the pimple subdues, every day is just like any other day. Wow, this has got to be the best metaphor I've thought of. A birthday is like an insistent pimple that surfaces once in a year.
But of course, being a greedy person, I would like it better if I have a super loyal, trustworthy and caring friend who remembers my birthday. I mean, who wouldn't like that? I wouldn't believe anyone who says that he/she doesn't. Because satisfaction has no limits. It's really one of those things that you can't get enough of. Even if you're happily satisfied with your current situation, there's always room to become even happier, enjoy even more satisfaction. This disgusts me sometimes. It makes humans look utterly revolting and in a sense,(not-sure-if-this-is-the-best-word) vulnerable. Like we can be easily controlled and manipulated by this 4-letter word 'more'.
And here I'll end with Britney Spears' shallow yet reflective song; an awfully honest depiction of our kind: "Gimme gimme (more), gimme, gimme gimme more."
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