Let's celebrate being alive.

Because, let's face it - some people aren't.

Anyone who has known me for upwards of five minutes can tell you I like to invest my emotions in things. Give me a good Disney movie, a moderately well-written chick flick starring Hilary Duff or Amanda Bynes circa 2002, or just a heartfelt cardboard Valentine, and watch the waterworks begin.

But then sometimes when real stuff happens - like the death of someone who meant something to my life- I don't really react like I think I should.  I put on some music and stare at the ceiling and wait for suffocation to embrace me. But it doesn't. I just lie there and think about how small and breakable I am, and how the blood in my veins and the air moving in and out of me all the time is such a miracle that I never, ever appreciate.

I don't want this post to be about me. Because it's not. And I don't want it to be about how you should seize the day because very rarely in life are there ever second chances. Because you can go see Charlie St. Cloud if you want that rubbed in your face for a few hours. (However, Zac Efron is dreamy, so go see it anyway). I ALSO don't want all of my posts to be this emotionally-invested. Because as I said before, that's how I've been since I was eleven, and I'm trying to find a way to balance that. But it's been an emotionally-invested evening. So you'll have to forgive me this time.

I want this to be about how we're all human beings, and how every second of every day there are lights turning on and off on this huge planet. Hundreds, even thousands of people dying, and even more being born. Every minute. And somehow, we've been standing here for years. Through the mess of all these lights flicking on and off, day and night - somehow, we've managed to keep ours on. Constantly. And there's no rhyme or reason to it. But here we are. We're alive.

We have no idea how lucky we are.