Today I have become 65 years old.
My thought of the day is connected to this event; it seems that my birthday is important for someone, albeit less for me.
I do not feel the time grinding my bones.
Here we are:
“As I have grown older, I have learned that pleasing everyone is impossible but pissing everyone off is a piece of cake.”
Or, in Shakesperean English:
Verily, thus I pen my thoughts on this most momentous day, when sixty-five winters hath beset mine age.
Methinks, ’tis strange, my natal day doth bring joy to some, yet unto me, ’tis but a thing of little consequence, for Time’s heavy hand doth not oppress mine bones with weighty stand.
Hark, what wisdom hath mine years bestowed upon mine heart?
That it is vain to please each mortal soul, for ’tis a futile boast, whilst, on the other hand, to vex and tease is but a trifle, a feat most easily lost.
Thus spake I, on this, mine sixty-fifth year,
A day of reckoning, and of wisdom dear.