I’m staring at my birth certificate and it says i was born at 0413
strange feeling, isn’t it, knowing the exact time on the clock when you were embraced into this world. birthdays have always been an odd thing to have. that one day in a year that we recognize to be ours that combination of numbers that you cherish and identify with. we accept gifts and we expect blessings but what for? a reminder that we were once a complete nothingness? i remember watching the Pixar movie Brave last summer and not liking it. however, there was this one scene with Merida sneaking out early in the morning and taking a good care of her horse to go to the forest. the color of the sky in that scene resembled my favorite hours of the day a time when the world is so quiet that you can seem to say anything and nobody would care, in the best way possible. 0413 is one of those times. i’m glad that i was born into a time that i enjoy being awake for. even though after multiple times of traveling my sense of time has lost to its most original meaning. birth certificate itself just sounds redundant, a validation of your birth, while you’re looking at it with your blood and flesh (and pupil). official documents my ass.