“…Happy is the one who died in old age; happier is the one who died in youth; happiest is the one who died at birth; happiest of all the one who was never born…” (Kierkegaard, Either/Or, V.1, p.221)
As usual you have dodged this, too: the fate of us who have to live their adulthood in the 21st century.
Good riddance from trying to find meanings, trying to find answers to questions of loving, hating, being annoyed, irritated. Good riddance from admitting that your toys are still your favourite things and yet you haven’t touched them in millions of living years in this simple life; also, from having to do what you despise at the exact moment of full disgust, and from those moments of numbness that no joy would matter. The best of all is that you ‘ve dodged those ever more frequent moments of longing to vanish in thin air and those moments between meaning and no meaning.
Me? My simple, humble, meaningless existence continues. Those moments I tell about take almost half of my day, lately. Just about nothing lures me anymore. If you were here, maybe one, maybe two of those moments wouldn’t be, some gain? After you, I am lonelier, I don’t even feel depressed. My endless traffic between non-existence and existence, desire and endurance, deprivation and subjection is more vigilant than ever.
Happy non-birthday! But… I’ve missed you.