Today wraps up a 3-day continuous birthday celebration for me.

It's been the same every year; without fail, my secondary school gal pals and my jc clan will take the effort to meet up during this period. It's good to know that some things never change.

The thing that struck me most about both gatherings is this: almost everyone's unhappy.

There's always something in your life that you're unhappy about - that job of yours that you're so stuck with but so loathe, that insectile boyfriend, that non-existent boyfriend, that insectile boss, your family, your life, God, yourself. If I had to count the number of unhappy events versus happy moments, the dark side that is us will win hands-down.

It seems like the older we get, the more things we're unhappy about.

I found out today that an old friend of ours is undergoing severe depression. She's seeking psychiatric help. She's possibly done the full Prozac Nation package - crying, slashing of wrists, banging of head against walls, throwing massive fits, having panic attacks, attacking her boyfriend, et al.

When I hear of this, I find myself pretty sane in retrospect.

At least I don't hurt others, all I do is attack myself.

Recently, I find myself turning into this split-personality creature; at night, I bawl my eyes out, I can't crawl out of bed, I can't eat or drink. Given the necessary tools, I could have hurt myself beyond repair.

On the other hand, I wake up when it's time and go to work. I behave as if nothing is the problem. I write concise emails, I deliver results. I talk to the big boss in what I deem as a confident demeanor. I do what it takes to prove that I'm capable and worthy of a promotion. And then when darkness falls, the whole cycle repeats itself. Again and again.

How many of us struggle through life in this way? Day after day after day?

The way I see it, life is meaningless. If only to make us stronger, bullshit. If only to bring us closer to God, triple quadruple religious bullshit. Where is the light at the end of the tunnel? Where is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? All a mirage to keep us fooled, to pull the wool over our eyes, to attempt to explain this unexplainable mess that is our existence. In the words of Lizzie, we are all preparing for death. This joy-ride that we're having right now, we can't wait for it to be over. It's simply a pain in the ass.