Usually when someone’s thirtieth birthday comes around they reflect on what they’ve accomplished in their life, and reasses their goals.
As someone aimless, directionless, and generally unaccomplished, that kind of post would be so ridiculously depressing as to cause more issues than it would solve them. Â It would shine a light on the dark recesses of my life where things don’t exist in any concrete way and instead are just a thirty year string of vague experiences to build me into the person I am, which at times is so questionable that I honestly wonder how formed I am at all.
Instead, it seemed a better time to focus on the things that I do have in my life that matter – namely my friends – and explain just how amazingly blessed someone can be by such a thing. Â I’m not talking in a ‘God led them to me’ sense, but in the sense that I managed to find people who so complete me as to make what meager existence I manage to eke out every year seem just a bit more tolerable.
I walk with heroes, and not in the traditional sense. Â They aren’t curing cancer or saving damsels in distress (often), nor do they wear capes or have fancy logos, but they’re heroes all the same. Â In a world where people are content with being mediocre and only caring about themselves, these people excel – not only do they excel, they push others to excel as well to the point where just being around them shrouds you in a cloud of good feelings so powerful you honestly can see a light at the end of the tunnel, or chasm, or whatever it is you’re trudging through.
People come into their lives and easily pass them over, not because they’re unremarkable, but because they don’t insist upon themselves. Â They write beautiful things, and say things that are intelligent, and because they’re not throwing out ten cent phrases or ten dollar words, they’re passed over.
I walk with heroes, do you understand how weird that is for me? To know I’m surrounded by such amazing people – even if only a few – and to know that they think the same of me? That I can exist in a world where these people care enough about me to make an effort to stay in my life? That I matter… I matter to people who I think should belong to the world, but the world won’t see them.
They may never be famous – though it’s a shame they’re not – and they may never be accepted by the world, but I know that it’s a better place with them in it.
This is what I’ve managed by the time I reached thirty. Â I managed to garner a few close friends so amazing that if the world came to an end around us, as long as I had them I would be completely fine with that. Â How weird is that?
I walk with heroes.