Recently, I rediscovered my old blog where I used to share my thoughts. Looking back at my past writings, I realized how much I've changed and grown over the years. Now, when I reflect on my journey, it feels like I've moved beyond those earlier times, and my memories are like white clouds. Occasionally, faces from the past appear in these clouds, but they're not very clear—they come and go.
In my current stage of life, the people from my past don't have a significant impact on my present. I find myself merely going through the motions, living to see the last years unfold. I don't feel a vibrant connection to life; it seems like I'm neither attracted nor attached. Whether at home or outside, it feels as if the only destination left is the graveyard. So, I look at my daughter and silently wish for her to grow up quickly, hoping that, once she's independent, I can find peace and be released from my responsibilities.
It's not that I have specific problems in my life. I have a good family, a supportive husband, and a positive environment. Yet, it feels like I've had my fill, and it's time to move on. This isn't about self-destructive thoughts, but rather a sense of having nothing else left to do. I wasn't born with the ability to decide when to end my life, so I patiently wait for a natural and peaceful death every day.
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