Crying on your birthdayβ¦ itβs definitely not a good sign. Itβs a difficult feeling to explain: as if life is slipping through my fingers, as if Iβm wasting something precious. At 37, I officially feel like a failure. I havenβt managed to give my life any real meaning.
Thatβs the thought accompanying me today. Maybe Iβll regret writing this, because humanity often doesnβt offer comfort, it watches and judges.
Sometimes, it even seems to find satisfaction in the pain of others.
