I think I missed my window for suicide after the death of my spouse.
Does that make me crazy?
I mean, really—who thinks like that, and how messed up do they have to be? Oh well, maybe I am crazy. I think I’m okay with it at this point.
You know, I was thinking about dreams the other day, and they are fickle things. Dreams can take you to new heights depending on what is driving them; with a little break and a little push in the right direction, they will take you to the top of the world. Left on their own, unattended, left to wander the recesses of your mind, they start to build walls and become your prison. They become the thing you never did, the place you never went, the woman you never loved!
Dreams are fickle!
The Existential Diatribe 