I am 34 years old today.
Incredible, considering the many near-death experiences I have had. I used to think I was cursed, that there is no way for me to die - some kind of twist in the great cosmic universe. But the fact that I am still alive despite those incidences, should mean something. It could mean I do want to be alive. I have learnt to separate the desire to end my internal pain and the desire to end my life.
Which means - yes, I do want to end this internal pain, but I realise death is not necessarily the solution to this.
Some days I can be extremely lucid. Isn't it amazing? Yay the wonders of medication.
As with most of the anniversaries of my birth, I dug out old journals - most in electronic format (archived on CDs from the online version - no longer online, of course), going back as far as 1997. I wanted to see where I was 4 years, 5 years, even 10 years ago. It wasn't pretty. Mostly very difficult reading, so I put them away. I will not indulge in self pity. Not today.
There was a quote (I used to collect quotes and would include them in my daily entries) which I'd like to share, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
Believe me, every man (or woman)
has his(her) secret sorrows,
which the world knows not;
and oftentimes we call a man(or woman) cold,
when (s)he is only sad.