Never before have I felt such aversion against meeting my birthday and getting older. It strikes me as a judgement day when I ponder on how I'm living my life, and I always think I'm not living it to the fullest, and guilt fills my soul (and it works like a growing maleficent undertone).
My fear is of time hammering on. It's not the fear of the lost youth, because in some ways I feel so old and weary already. Neither it is the fear of facing death and leaving this world - somehow it really doesn't bother me as I'd expect it to. No, it's just the fear that I'm running out of time to do all I want to do, and I think I can't really explain why it doesn't really have much to do with the denied alternatives.
But then again, this mad quest has just started and in less than one year I've learned more than I dreamed I ever could, so I can only hope each year that is yet to come will bring me as much knowledge as my 22nd one alone did. Hopefully one day I can reach the height of my ambitions.
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