Today is my birthday and nobody knows it, on any other occasion it would not have been something relevant, but for some reason this year the emptiness of loneliness hit me harder, probably because it was not what I expected, in my indomitable heart I had the light of hope that vanished with the passing of the hours, I thought that this year I would spend my birthday being loved, being pampered, being a person. I have been without someone by my side for many years and I have become wilder, they have hurt me so much that I feel angry in inappropriate company, but with every sunset I dream of a warm hand that rests on my head and messes it up even more. I feel rejected by society, and it is that I have tried everything, I have wanted to do everything, I have tried not to be a fail and I always continue in the same, behind a veil of oscillating darkness, the reflection of those who have fulfilled their dreams, those who, although they do not have a perfect life, accept what they have been given and live happily, some very conformist and others who have really been lucky.

I am a mirage, I exist but I am absent, if I walk down the boulevard no one notices my presence, I become significant when I speak, when the words come out of my chest because I say interesting things, because I have an adequate record of knowledge, because I can carry on a conversation , but people don't have time to listen, time is elusive, life roars in people's faces to hurry up, I can't succeed if there are no people to listen to what I say and I can't keep failing because I have no more life. Committing suicide on your birthday is like closing the cycle of life. I will be remembered for nothing, I will be an apology for the waste of time, the lack of art, the suffering of others. I guess I've done a lot of damage and that's why I deserve the pain of not having a confidant, a person with whom I can talk about the human and the divine, about the salad I had for lunch that had a taste of sadness and the deep philosophical thoughts that flood my mind.

The first time I was asked at school "What do you want to be when you grow up?", my automatic response was that I wanted to be "a great thinker", I don't know where I heard that term but it was certainly something that suited what I wanted. I wanted for my life, I wanted stability and to be able to write, think and write again, but the world ate me up, misery swallowed me mercilessly, I couldn't be who I wanted, in fact after the laughter in my class when I gave that answer, I decided not to mention it again and since I was 6 years old I started saying that I wanted to be a computer engineer, something similar to what I achieved over time, but that is not what my soul, in those pure years, had as a mission for me. There are no thoughts, there is no time, there is no pen that is capable of writing when you do not have a decent shelter.

Just as today was a good day to be born, the icy breeze tells me in my ear that it is also a great day to die.

Niko.