32 and still breathing!

She asked me about my age, and I replied, "33".
I found out that I was wrong when I went home, and for the next day I tried to figure out what's my real age but I failed.
Thanks to old school counting-fingers-method, I calculated it.

It's either love or hate; the in-between state doesn't suit me. It's a state of uncertainty that makes me restless.
And hate is my salvation.

I love asthma and I love nightmares.
I hate headaches and I hate nausea.
Is this Philosophy?!!

32 years…
6 years in an undefined phase,
11 years on the line of fire,
15 years of self punishment,
….
I'm a wicked wicked punisher!

"What's your goal for this year?"
….
"Ok, what do you want to do the most?"
…. (again)!
"…..?!"
I'm dead, it's just that I'm still breathing!