and yet, I manage to fucking do it again. Always with the ignorant conversation heading down the realms of places best avoided, and only realising once it's too late. Only took 24 hours this time. New record?


H.

defying augury and deciding whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer, comes infrequently these days. I miss this part of you, and me, and us. Sometimes water under the bridge, is just that. Without it, said bridge is rather pointless anyway.


H.

This is me (now).

Looking back on yourself through the narrow lens of your unforgotten memories, and what actually happened are usually two different things, I've found. I (now) can see why this is how it is. Thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great.




H.

Everything will be alright in the end.

If it's not alright, it's not the end.

...Right?


J.

H.

true story bro.


H.

we all stop making plans one day. the only difference is that some people realise when their reach exceeds their grasp, and others don't.


J.

I don't even know what to write on here any more these days. I've come to the point where it might just be easier to recycle those old blog posts from last time, but somehow I can see that this time there is actually potential for resolution. Speaking of last time, I've finally let it go. (Forever).


H.

We're all right where we should be. Lift my arms out wide. I open my eyes. And now all I wanna see. Is a sky full of lighters, a sky full of lighters.

Lets be honest;

I feel like I should be more sad and although I justify my lack of emotion by the old adage of the long and happy life, I can see that there is more to this story. Maybe I'm just too tired to care. But I also know that life's weary trudge tends to accentuate these feelings, not the contrary.

I loved to see the faces and hear those stories. The ones from a time long past of decaying grandure and a life lived in cheating and betrayal, and for the three siblings which have all ended up 90 year later in the same place. My very own family version of A Streetcar Named Desire.

So as the catered sandwiches are wrapped and returned to the ice box, the teapot washed, and the china returned to the kitchen, you've got to wonder about this all.

Should we be expecting our own unhappy ending?

Strange week all round.