A diary entry

Could you please look through this and correct mistakes:

25.01.2011.

?31. Birthday. Death. Domodedovo.

Almost nine years ago, 28.01.2002, three days after my birthday i made the following entry in my diary:

"So there i`m already twenty-two. As the word goes, i have "imperceptibly become a full-grown man". Or more truly not just become but suddenly realized this fact. And realizing the realness of coming-of-age inevitably leads to realizing of realness of ageing. And i`m scared. Up to a certain moment one moves through the time and each new day, week, month, year seem something that one gains, achieves, something that enriches one and then one becomes "to leave behind" and every day that has passed is no more an acquisition but a loss. There is realizing the unreturnability of the spent life. Is one able to get used to this? Or will it always oppress one, make one grasp the hands of the clock trying to hold off moments in strengthless unavailing attempts initially doomed to failure?"

At bottom i then for the first time ever distinctively felt the moment when the clockwise reading (the amount of time that has passed) was changed to the counterclockwise reading (the amount of the time that`s left). Subsequently i decided to myself that in course of time i would be able to accustom myself to this feeling and having resigned my mind to it when the sense of novelty is lost would cease taking notice ot it. However now, 9 years later, i realize that not only has this feeling become wonted but what is more - the timer clicks even louder, more pronounced. As though it speeds up. It feels like you are sucked in by some rushing, uncontainable windstream through a tunnel that has the meat chopper in its end. And there is no way to cling, to hold off, to stop or at least to slow down. Probably i still couldn`t reconcile myself to my own mortality. And what is the most horrible is the fact that the only way out of this tunnel, the only deliverance of the oppressive waiting and fear is just the meat chopper that you are so painfully afraid of.

Those thirty five who went hence in Domodedovo yesterday are not afraid of anything anymore. They left us all the cumbersome luggage of fears, doubts, pain, bodies owing to its total irrelevance and boarded their last plane light handed. May you have a good journey, guys.