What matters to us left behind, to those of us who suffer from the same darkness, is how do we protect ourselves?
In the meantime, i endeavour to use that new fangled invention i've been hearing so much about, 'social media' to connect and share more, even though to me it is as comfortable as a porcupine rectal thermometer .
I felt sad to let go of being 42 as, at the very least, I felt important thanks to Douglas Adams and his meaning of life.
We, my family and I are standing on the threshold of something we can’t rightly fathom. It is bracing. There is colour in our cheeks. We are waiting to begin.
It is like being a parent to Wile E. Coyote. I don’t watch Looney Tunes cartoons anymore; I live them.
If what I attempted was not the highest of art, then folk would see through the cracks and realise what a complete piece of shit I was. That I was a faker. That I was actually hollow of purpose, worth and talent.
While writing is usually considered a wise and earthly pursuit, it actually revolves around sitting in your underpants while typing and spurning life completely.
The act of helping others is one of the few actions which can truly sum up the worth of a person. I mean, what else is there to do with your life?