so i’m eighteen. i can vote, i can drink in hong kong, my government can call me up to kill people in foreign lands. happy birthday to me. at school, we celebrate at midnight and it is expected that your friends throw the party. i told mine not to bother, passed it off saying that i wanted to spend some time by myself, that i needed to take a walk. midnight was celebrated sitting on a rock, by the side of a polluted hong kong bay, the black water moving like oil across the stony sand. orange fluorescent lights from the bar nearby glimmered and flickered; its amazing how something as ugly as the taint of chemicals can turn simple water into a quiet birthday present. life has a funny way of throwing its own little parties for those who care to attend. and nature, for all its ruthless violence, will not betray you. it is predictable in its unpredictability. humans have that same unpredictability, but it is on a different level than natural. it is not that we know what we do with our emotional violence; consciousness is not the difference between man and nature. it is something more indefinable, something harder to grasp. i only know that i sat with them to celebrate my birthday and it didn’t last five minutes. one of them left to take his girlfriend home, the other went to sleep. it is not a matter of faults, but a matter of potential moments lost. the sleeping one wanted to take me to dinner...i have already eaten. simple chance, not luck, not fate, just chance. the random occurrence of two events, unconnected, interconnected. irony is the spice of life. hours later, after waking, we went to have a meeting about a film the three of us are in, an alcoholic party meant to teach young hong kong kids that you can be cool without drinking. we are supposed to meet up afterwards to watch a movie for my birthday. they show up...at one am. it is amazing how we can be hurt little things that people do, or don’t do. when we dare to call someone a friend, we give them permission to hurt us, an open entrance to our hearts. step up to the table, take your bets, and hope you come out ahead instead of behind. i’ve come out way, way ahead. i may not have got a birthday party, but i have my memories. i can remember their laughs, their smiles. i can remember singing on the subway and voice boxing on the bus. a birthday is just another day, and after 18 years, its nice to know that there are still things to write about.

-Mr Healer