ORIGIN: The Brush wished us happy birthday! It even blew out the candles for us. Where did all the warmth go? Silly us, lizards and nightmares have cold blood running through their veins. It was an invitation. It wouldn’t be a party without guests!
Happy birthday! Blow out a candle and make a wish.
Candles melt. Wolves howl at the moon. I am just a dog, but my birthday fell on a full moon, and I thought I would give it a try. I was ready to be covered in molten wax from head to toe. But my wish didn’t come true, I never turned into a wolf. My dreams. My mold. Such a waste. I realized that I had mixed up my words. Wax. Wane. The moon waned right before my eyes. All that magic. Wasted away to nothing.
I am not a dinosaur; I am not stuck in the past. I eat my birthday cake, but I don’t blow out the candles anymore. There comes a time when every child should break the embrace and put their teddy bear to rest. No more colorful patches. No more mismatched buttons. Wishes are a means of covering the holes. But I don’t want to go through life with a broken heart. I want to welcome the future with open arms.
Wishes are a waste of breath. Lizards know best, cowards live to see another birthday cake. Candles don’t grant wishes any more than black cats bring misfortune. This year, I will shed something too. I don’t have a tail, so, my wishes will have to do. By the time the wax melts, I will be content with my life. Mice won’t gnaw at my heart looking for a way out. I will breathe everything out. All those wishes that only lead to disappointment and heartbreak.
Something horrible happened six years ago, and I have been sharing my birthday with a nightmare ever since. At first, I had no words for it. I don’t remember blowing out any candles, but I must have. It was dark. I was lost. That horse became my North Star, and I hated it. The power it held over me. The fact that it held my gaze and wouldn’t let go. I don’t know where that rabbit came from, but I am in its debt. I wouldn’t have found the words to describe that nightmare otherwise. It’s not a star anymore. 5 years I have been putting ink to paper, I already know that nightmare by heart. I can finally move on from that boring old read.