It’s been extremely difficult, but I’ve taught myself to lower my expectations. I can’t say I don’t have any at all, although I’d like to believe that. The problem is that one day of the year that keeps returning. For some reason, no matter how much I try, I can’t help having expectations that day. They’re not that high, but they’re the kind of expectations that have never been met so far and probably never will. That one day of the year, I let all my guards down and become sad… terribly sad. And this year is not going to be any different. Already three days prior to that day, I got to know of the ruined plans. If I could, I’d sleep through the 23rd of June every year.