That damned birthday just kept making you cringe. Your mother wondered if you would ever notice your freedom, but you insisted upon your faction shackles. If you blink, you lose the moment. If you yawn, it will be obsessed with your reluctance. Blow out those candles, familiar brother. You are unjustifiably wanton, and tonight cannot beg your admittance. Wreck the blockade of these years. Free your spirit as a luxury.