Of Compromise…

A date shouldn’t matter. After all, it’s just a random number. It can be 1 out of 365 possibilities, and each one should be equal. And yet, somehow, it does matter. It matters because if it’s going to be one of those things that are commemorative, you want it to be special. Atleast, you want it to be special in your scheme of life. And it sucks when it isn’t, when it gets lumped together with something else and ruins both.

Just like dates, age shouldn’t matter either. After all, it is yet another random number, and just because people think there is a cut-off age for things doesn’t mean it’s true. And yet, it matters too. Even if it’s just by 1 day or 2 days, mentally, the difference between n-1, and n, as an age still seems like an entire year. A full, wasted year of possibilities.

I guess all of this is just mental. And you make your peace with it. Even if it means watching yourself make that compromise year after year after year.


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