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The strangest thing. It’s like all of a sudden, the day I turned 24, all of the anger in my head just dissipated, and was replaced by a certain, peculiar sadness. Even sadness is a bit too strong of a word, I think: what it is a profound, all-pervasive, though muted sense of melancholy, that’s settled over the entirety of my life.

I don’t feel angry. I don’t feel spiteful. I don’t feel pain, or resentment, or shame, or even really anxiety. What I feel instead is a sense of immense peace, and calmness; the kind that emerges from a moment of perfect equilibrium between two contradictory states of being, two paradoxical perspectives suddenly harmonised. I feel deeply at peace with myself and who I am and who it is I’m trying to be, and who it is I’m going to become. I feel at peace with others, and the idea of the world as a place I recognise as deeply, most likely irreparably compromised, and nonetheless, the place I must be, having no other alternative.