They said Jesus lived to be 33. Today I turn 33. Of course I can’t compare myself to our King. It would make any person feel small.
In my life I can’t say there hasn’t been too many trouble waters. Maybe a slight downpour at times.
My wish this year is to live happier.
As birthdays continue I find myself growing sad and feeling sorry for myself. I can’t validate it because that in turns just throws me into turmoil within. Who am I to complain? Why can’t I just be happy with where I’m at? Why is being a “constant” a bad thing? Why have I labeled myself so?
See what I mean? Thinking about just makes the sadness grows. Instead just let it be.
33. I hope it’s a good number for me.
Happy Birthday self.