Another year - and here I am again. Not among friends, not in the noise of congratulations, but between them. Between those who are the loudest silent.
Another cake. Another candle. Me. And two voices. One whispers: Live for yourself. Take. Knead this world in your palms, like wax, do not look at anyone. You are allowed everything ... And the other - quietly, almost tenderly: You are not alone. Do not destroy. Remember that each choice is a stone that you put in the building of your soul.
I wonder who sent the first congratulations: hell or heaven? And which of them is really closer to me today? After all, the devil - he speaks honestly, without masks: If you want. Then - take. And the angel - he only puts his hand on my shoulder ... as if forgiving in advance.
You know, I will not make wishes. Because all I really want is to know: When and what I will choose and will I choose myself, or just repeat what has already been decided for me.
Happy birthday...
