I turned 30 earlier this year. Birthdays are always highly melancholic for me, as it simply means that I'm one year older and one year closer to dying. However, my 30th birthday is one that I've always especially dreaded. I've always felt like, once I turn 30, I won't be young anymore. I'm truly an adult, whether I feel like one or not. But what does it even mean to be an adult anyways? Quite frankly, I don't want anything to do with what society tells me "adults" are supposed to do. I don't want to get married or have kids. I don't want to be a debt slave and work a job that I hate so that I can spend the rest of my life paying rent to a landlord (or paying off a mortgage). I don't want to partake in the meaningless rat race. I want something more, but I know that there really is nothing more. Life is an endless abyss with no purpose that we were all born to slave away and die in. As I have said before, I really don't know how anyone with a functioning brain can live in this world and not want to kill themselves.