I hate the number 13, but you give me strength.


Most people associate tradition with family, but my best friend and I once had this conversation  where we spoke of tradition and how its something we could honestly start where we find bonds and reasons strong enough to do so.
Well, there is that and those traditions that we don’t realize are being formed.
I come to you from an extremely eccentric and frighteningly lame group of friends who are also cripplingly loving and maddeningly intense. Our bonds, our charecteristic ‘hexilities’ and our forever immense peaks of love has given birth to a simple yet precious tradition. Birthdays.
As slight as it may sound, birthdays are the personifying pinnacles of our friendship, when we come together in someones name to let our love crackle and spark into an iternal flame. We have an odd little tradition of expressing ourselves in the silliest and grandest fashions to comemorate each other and our bond. Many people don’t understand it. Many people say its over rated. Many say that one special day won’t make a difference to the million other real days. But they don’t know.
They don’t know the life force which has formed this bond. That force that we collectively created with our individual life forces intertwining and that which we constantly borrow from and that of which each individual element, each contributor is required to balance and equate this force, this day, this life.
They don’t understand but it is tradition. Our tradition where our lives are held up and celebrated with all the elements of our life force.
A tradition, that I hope to forever uphold.

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