I wish that I wouldn't wish at all.

I am getting old, damnit!!
Sure, perhaps I look just as same.. but inside.. BIOLOGICALLY.. I'm OLDER!!!
shit.
This is so depressing.
This is why I shouldn't be excited about December. My birthday is coming up fast and it feels like I'd be depressed every single year!
This is so messed up.
I should be made to be wanting of nothing.

Santa, forget my list.
Just hand me the coals if you like because I expect nothing more.
No.. to be truth.. I expect NOTHING.
Really. I really reaaaally need to believe that.
Seems like every year I found a reason to cry on my birthday (it's a fact, I just read my archives) because even when I said that I expected nothing.. I LIED.
Which sucks. Big time.

I'll be 25..
And still waiting to grow up.
Somebody should really help me save myself from December.
'D' stands for DEPRESSED. ughhh!!

Pascal, in one of his gloomier pensées, gave it as his opinion that all our miseries stemmed from a single cause: our inability to remain quietly in a room.
Why, he asked, must a man with sufficient to live on feel drawn to divert himself on long sea voyages?
To dwell in another town? To go off in search of a peppercorn? Or go off to war and break skulls?
Later, on further reflection, having discovered the cause of our misfortunes, he wished to understand the reason for them, he found one very good reason: namely, the natural unhappiness of our weak mortal condition;
so unhappy that when we gave to it all our attention, nothing could console us.
One thing alone could alleviate our despair, and that was "distraction" (divertissement): yet this was the worst of our misfortunes, for in distraction we were prevented from thinking about ourselves and were gradually brought to ruin.
-- Chatwin.