I will probably commit suicide before I turn 22.

I wrote those words in my notebook some years ago. I turn 22 in two days and I have no desire to kill myself. Birthdays have always somehow marked a change in my life, either for the better or worse, though. Maybe it's because I treat them as most would treat the New Year, a time to change things, fix things, or as I have done in the past, to destroy things.

For nearly a year now I've been doing really well. Not quite stable, but who the hell wants to be stable? Such boredom! At least, though, I've not been a total spaz. Not feeling extremes is really unusual, though, and I sometimes don't like it. What have I got to write about when my moods are so mellow? Oh well.

I have the desire to stand in the rain.