Crying on your birthday… it’s definitely not a good sign. It’s a difficult feeling to explain: as if life is slipping through my fingers, as if I’m wasting something precious. At 37, I officially feel like a failure. I haven’t managed to give my life any real meaning.
That’s the thought accompanying me today. Maybe I’ll regret writing this, because humanity often doesn’t offer comfort, it watches and judges.
Sometimes, it even seems to find satisfaction in the pain of others.
