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December 4, 2002
Just in 27 days, I am thirty. Last night, I shed tears as I was reading Das 30ste Jahr by Ingeborg Bachmann. Now I am not that kind of grown-up which I wanted to be. I am still a poor little boy. The "anxiety and solitude" is my very ontological situation. I long for "a perfect body and a perfect soul", but I am nothing. How can I catch up my insatiable desire which is always far ahead of me?

Nevertheless, I'd like to pray for and pursue the meaning of my life on and on. Can it be possible?