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The fifth magic number

I’m turning fifty today.

For those of my generation, the goals of a person my age would have been buying a house, getting married, having children, having a good job, and preparing for retirement.

According to these criteria, I would be almost a complete failure: I never bought a house, I never married, I can no longer have children, on the pension I would spread a pitiful veil; on the other hand, I’m doing the job I want.

This horrible and stupid way of judging a person’s life is still what is taught to the new generations.
If you are not part of a heterosexual couple, a man and a woman with children, in your small house, yoùre not normal.

I always thought I wanted something different from this way of seeing and thinking: I find that it is the basis of all forms of racism. People are all different, and they take different paths, they have different possibilities, they make different choices; this does not mean they are better or worse.

I am happy with who I am: I have been sharing my life with my sweet half for twelve years, and I am glad and grateful every day to have him by my side; I speak two languages ​​regularly; I live in the place I have chosen and not in the one where I was born; I have a degree in Philosophy which I am still proud of.
I’m a little sorry I didn’t have children, but during the only time I could have had them, it would have been irresponsible to do so, and therefore I’m glad I didn’t.

I have come here, and I still have many things to do.
And so, best wishes to me.

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