So now that I’m into my forties, I’m proper middle aged , which reminds me of middle earth. But that’s just another escape from reality I like to lose myself in. In college I used to burn myself with lit cigarettes, mainly on my forearm but occasionally on my chest and neck, as a way of dealing with what I thought was life’s unfairness towards me. I hurt no one except myself, and I still don’t when I end up hitting myself. Thankfully I’ve not become mad enough to draw blood for a long time now, but there were instances. I blame me. There’s no one and nothing to put my actions on but me. I’m unstable, just not all the time. I project a happy face to the world because that’s what they want. But now I’m forty, and I’ll face my mortality by knowing that I’ve lived life under clouds of self doubt and feeling like a failure, and yet I’ll keep trying to achieve more forever until my last breath, when my mind dies. I believe in hope, and positive patience. 6hourism. https://youtu.be/-xJm...