The zing.

Turning a year older, I wonder like I do every year.
What is age, if not just a number?

I believe I turn wiser by the second.

Am I still the same old foolish me, at times?

Yes. I am.

Do I know it all?

Duh. Whom am I kidding?

There is so much to do and so much more to experience.
The changing tides, the changing me through it all.

It is being lost, being found, being lost all over again, and finding myself AGAIN.

To feel the happiness, to feel the pain, and to choose how to channel the latter.

To the struggles and the crushing moments, and to make a weirdly nice lemonade of it all.

To breathe and to brace myself on what’s to come.

To the new sides, the hidden sides, the ever flamboyant sides of me.

To the preachy one, the curious one, the joker, the scary one, the one with a poker face.

To the ‘I mean business’ one, and the one that does not make any sense at all.

To love and to cherish it all.

To wing it as I go. And to drop some glitters on my way.

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