A Third Of The Way Through

Today I turned twenty five. Yesterday I was mildly depressed. Realizing it was my birthday upgraded me to moderately depressed.

I figure I have at most fifty good years left. I cannot imagine accomplishing anything I think is important today in those fifty years. At seventy five I might be mildly happy with what I accomplished. But by then I will be justifying my existence. Probably very few people meet the expectations they have at twenty five, but this realization does not make me feel any better.

ML told me we eventually have to draw a line in the sand. We make a decision and stand by it. We decide to live a life, and we live that life. We leave the fiction of youth and enter reality. Jeff has been telling GGM, Sam, and I this for months.

But I cannot buy it yet. I am still young enough to enjoy fiction.

I intentionally try not to tell people my birthday. It is just another day. I try to abstain from self-worship. I cannot remember anyone else's birthday. If they remember mine, it makes me feel guilty.

Jeff, my mother, other colleagues I suffered with this year, and my aunt remembered. I am going to have to start keeping a calendar. All neuroticism aside, I appreciate people remembering, and I need to do a better job of it myself.