Alright, I think it's time to dust off the blog. Long time no see, huh?

I hope you missed me. Obviously, not all of you—if you scroll up a couple of posts, I'm celebrating my hundredth subscriber there, and today you're only 97. Time to urgently take some measures before you all run away! >.<

Actually, I was planning to come back a week ago. I just had my birthday—33 years old, the age of Christ, all that. And I usually like to reflect on that day.

Especially considering that five years ago, my birthday was more of a punishment than a holiday for me. Or rather, not the birthday itself, but the period right after. There was this feeling of "oh, another year has passed, and I still haven't <insert_whatever>" that grated like sand in your teeth.

And so every year I dreaded this day... with horror, I guess. That I'd have to go through all those swings again and try to prove to myself that I hadn't lived the last year in vain (sic!).

Now it sounds like madness, but back then it was reality.

But in recent years, I've kind of let go. I don't think there's a single reason why I stopped worrying. Apparently, everything worked together—starting with regular exercise and ending with an interest in Stoicism.

Or maybe it just passed, who knows.

The fact is that April 23 this year went like a completely ordinary day. I went to bed at 10 PM the night before, woke up at 6:30 AM, and went about my business according to my routine. Yes, of course, the day was decorated with congratulations from friends and family, which is very nice. But globally—a day like any other.

And that's just wonderful. Because before, I literally counted down the days until my birthday. And not because I was looking forward to it. On the contrary—I was afraid of its arrival.

Now I don't care. It's just 1 day out of 365 this year.

And for me, that's probably the best possible state.