It's kind of strange, turning 30. Completely arbitrary, and yet in some psychological way, not. I don't think I could ever be at a point where I felt like I'd done enough… death can be fucking scary at times, depending on the perspective. An odd thing. Does that make sense? I want intensity above all, but sometimes she is a harsh mistress.
“Can a man of perception respect himself at all?”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky