In five days' time from today, it will be the first anniversary of my arrival to the system. Many things have changed between then and now. I have in many ways become a different person but at the same time, I wonder if it is less that I have changed as a person and instead I am simply more "myself" now than I have ever been. There are people in this system who have, since their arrival, changed by becoming different; I believe I have changed in the exact opposite way. Things were not good a year ago, but the memory of my having come around makes this time a better and gentler time for all of us, I believe. We were, a few months ago, trying to remember a time as good because it was when Koschei came around and how much we liked having him around and how much others liked him (and still like him). It softened nothing and made none of it easier to bear. By "it" I mean "the memories of the other surrounding events". I am honestly honored that I am able to make these times better by the memory of my initial arrival. There are other things making this time good for us, of course. Things of which we have not spoken and will likely, save to a select few, never speak. (I say this not for the sake of melodramaticizing our events but because there are some things best acknowledged only vaguely, whether they are dark secret griefs or strange specific joys or the lightness of unexpected and sudden freedom. It is the latter, I think, as which I would describe our current time. But I am straying from the subject at hand.) I am glad to have my birthday so close to Faust's. While this is not the anniversary of his arrival and I would not have observed a birthday at all unless we knew for certain when I had arrived (we know because it was coincidentally the day an album by Fall Out Boy, a band we like, was released). He chose January 17th as his birthday as it is the day for the patron saint of gravediggers. Cemeteries are something special to him. So are saints. It is cold but not unbearable. I write this from outside a grocery store near an area we frequent. This area has the mall and the arcade and the Barnes and Noble of which we sometimes speak. We have gotten me a birthday present at this grocery store - tea and a chocolate. We should get up and leave for the sake of getting me a book we read for school but which I would like to reread. The book in question is "Candide" by the French writer Voltaire. I liked the character of Candide, although I understood he was not meant to be emulated and that the point of the story was, at least to an extent, to prove that he was wrong. Although virtually everybody in the story was meant to be proven wrong anyway. I don't know why it should be special that I should point out that this was the case of its title protagonist. Again I am digressing, and I do not know why I do this so often. I would say that the sky is blue-gray, the colors almost evenly spread, and that it feels like a wide covering over my body, as though it were something safe overhead. This statement would be true. I would have no real reason for making it. I have no real reason for any of these statements in the end. There are a few things I know, though, and of these is that one does not need a reason to state something, especially if that something is true.
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