I haven’t been writing much lately – and not because I have little to say. My head is still easily filled with swirling thoughts of death and dying. Silly things bring me to tears. I think you’re sick of hearing about it. I think you want to tell me “move on, get over it”. I know I’m sick of talking about it. So, I remain silent.
I don’t like my first comment on this post: it doesn’t make much sense. Please delete it, if you want.
I think I was drinking near-beer when I wrote it … well, it was whiskey, but that’s near enough to beer for me.
Thoughts are like balloons floating around in the mind. Sometimes one floats so close you can’t see any of the other balloons. Eventually it will float away: it doesn’t disappear or get smaller, it’s just perspective that makes it look like that.