RE: [Fortuna]: Planet one awaits 9/12
09-16-2018, 09:52 PM
Every year we are greeted with something truly special.
A new year of life.
In our youth, we are congratulated for surviving another year in this world, as if everyone were expecting our death to steal us early from this life.
It is then that one year something strange shall happen. You will wake up and find it utterly normal despite an expectation of excitement.
You don't mention it to anyone.
They must have something in store, and you don't want to ruin it.
You go about your day, waiting for the moment to come, but as the light leeches out of the sky, nothing happens.
Did you get the date wrong? No, you checked it all throughout the day, you know that today is it! The special day, the one that only happens once a year.
You reach out to someone and make a remark, a little nudge to remind the person of what you expected today to be like. They perk up, pat you on the back, and congratulate you on another day of living before heading back to what they were doing.
Last year you had a cake and candles. Everyone came over last year.
The year before that the same.
And even before that.
But now your birthday is nothing more than a footnote. There is no cake.
No party.
Nothing but a simple "Happy birthday" from those who remember.
The first time this happens to you, it's not just a disappointment.
It's a tragedy.
Happy birthday, Fortuna.
A new year of life.
In our youth, we are congratulated for surviving another year in this world, as if everyone were expecting our death to steal us early from this life.
It is then that one year something strange shall happen. You will wake up and find it utterly normal despite an expectation of excitement.
You don't mention it to anyone.
They must have something in store, and you don't want to ruin it.
You go about your day, waiting for the moment to come, but as the light leeches out of the sky, nothing happens.
Did you get the date wrong? No, you checked it all throughout the day, you know that today is it! The special day, the one that only happens once a year.
You reach out to someone and make a remark, a little nudge to remind the person of what you expected today to be like. They perk up, pat you on the back, and congratulate you on another day of living before heading back to what they were doing.
Last year you had a cake and candles. Everyone came over last year.
The year before that the same.
And even before that.
But now your birthday is nothing more than a footnote. There is no cake.
No party.
Nothing but a simple "Happy birthday" from those who remember.
The first time this happens to you, it's not just a disappointment.
It's a tragedy.
Happy birthday, Fortuna.