Sometimes, the things you most need to talk about are the ones that you most can’t talk about.
Sometimes, you’ve said it all.
Sometimes, you’ve thought it all.
Sometimes, you’ve felt it all.

And all that remains at the end of the day is a dull, old throb. Not the sharp tang of fresh pain, but the jaded feel of frayed edges.

The past is weary. And so is the future. As for the present, it is suspended and you watch mutely while the pendulum swings on-back and forth, back and forth. Then you look around and find that it’s not just you.

It’s the world. It's all wrong...Everybody has fallen silent.

Laughter does not seem so much like mirth as a convulsion. Contrived, forced. And really, you are better fun on the inside than them on the outside. So, you go back... Wrap the blanket tight around you, make yourself some hot chocolate, get all cosy and snug, and spend the evening letting your thoughts whirl, swirl, eddy, rush madly and settle down like dust.

You’ve weighed it all. A million times before. But each time, you add with it the wisdom gleaned from that day. Just one more nugget hoarded for a rainy day.

Life.