The Beginning of Something
Many months ago I said to myself that I would never right a blog or journal again. Maybe because I find it prissy, or maybe just plain unnecessary. I have always adhered to the philosophy of Joseph Joffo: Happy people don't need to tell stories. And I believed I was happy with my life.
But now I'm telling my story.
But I'm not doing this because I am sad either. My life has always been a screwed-up soap opera in the first place. But I don't know. For the past few months I don't really know much about my life anymore. It's as though life is tugging me on my shirtsleeves and asking me with puppy-dog eyes: What should we do now?
I don't know. I really don't. And sometimes frankly I don't really care at all.
Maybe I'm just lazy with my life. Or maybe I'm just tired of it.
(Sigh)
Or maybe I'm just plain crazy.
But now I'm telling my story.
But I'm not doing this because I am sad either. My life has always been a screwed-up soap opera in the first place. But I don't know. For the past few months I don't really know much about my life anymore. It's as though life is tugging me on my shirtsleeves and asking me with puppy-dog eyes: What should we do now?
I don't know. I really don't. And sometimes frankly I don't really care at all.
Maybe I'm just lazy with my life. Or maybe I'm just tired of it.
(Sigh)
Or maybe I'm just plain crazy.
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