Seventieth year wandering.
"Happiest birthday" 365 days. 365 chances were given. I wasted some, I sentiment others. What does it mean to be the happiest? Yesterday was my birthday. I celebrated with some of my friends, some family friends also came. Celebrating was almost near to existing. I feel so down than I normally felt. The excitement and astonishment? I only felt that the night before. This entire journey of my 17th year is nothing but full of doubts, hesitations, judgments, anxiety, selflessness, losses, and vulnerability. Remembering how everything went since December 15 last year, it was a mess. I tried to fulfill all of my plans, yet nothing seems to be going that way. I felt like my self-made path is nothing but a toddler plan - it has a lot of mistakes, turning points, fails, curves, overcolored places, and broken lines. If I were inside a car, I am on that cliff while still hoping that things will be alright, like someone will unexpectedly come and save me. That's how it went, full of