Something's died inside of me. Some teeny part which used to make me look forward to celebrating life. Its the end of another year - people are full of bonhomie, making plans for the night, sending missives full of good cheer etc. I wonder what the fuss is about. Maybe its a phase with me, maybe its today. There's only one reason for me to be alive. I do try to create others but somehow I stumble. And that miffs me.
Death seems like a more dignified, desirable topic. The end. The big sleep. God knows, I need a good looong sleep, light-sleeper that I am. The great leveller. The final stop. I don't know the bit about it being the transit station before the next adventure blah blah. How come ppl don't celebrate death, worship the grim reaper, since it has the final word on all the noise we fill our lives with.
Don't know where I will be 5 years from now...sounds morbid, but maybe where I am now. Ugh. I am messed up inside, I think. And as i grow older, its getting worse.
Life suddenly doesn't seem like anything worth talking about anymore. Maybe if I buy a swish bag, things might brighten up. Pure conjencture at this point.
Here's to the End then. When it does come. And to the rest of the normal happy ppl world, happy new year...indeed.