Overreaction or Real Danger

I was messaging my mother on Facebook. It went like this…

Me:Barry is driving me crazy about this virus. He’s bought masks, gloves & tons of hand sanitizer.  He thinks this is going to spread all over the world and kill off 3/4 of the population. He freaked out over H1N1, Ebola and thought world war 3 was starting at the beginning of the year.”

Mom: “And you thought I was a worry wart you, gave us a good laugh 😆

Me: “😷 “I try to tell him if it was really bad there would be hundreds of cases, if not more, in all countries. I try to hold my comments to myself but it’s hard. He’s really concerned.”

Mom: “He better lock himself in the house and clean it every day sanitized” Me “Haha. He keeps buying canned food. He’s Turing into a prepper. You have no idea how freaked he was about Kelly. I was too but he was super freaking.”

This is a problem in China. I know they have weird sicknesses there from time to time due to the Wet Markets. China has smart scientists and physicians, they’ll figure this out.

There are conspiracy theories about just what this virus is. Some people think it is a bio-weapon that escaped the facility in Wuhan. Some people think the USA created it to kill causes havoc in China. Some say the virus came from a meteorite that landed not too far from Wuhan. There are so many ridiculous theories.

I believe it came from some kind animal but… what if it is a bio-weapon. 🤔 I made up my own conspiracy theory: since it’s mostly the elderly and sick people that are dying. Is it possible that someone created a virus to kill off the people that are the most drain on healthcare systems worldwide? Is there such a thing as the Illuminati and, if so, are they behind this? Just because the outbreak started in China doesn’t mean someone didn’t plant a virus there, the world will think it’s just another virus that crossed species. Too inconceivable. I watch too many dystopian movies.

My husband is obsessed with watching the Twitter feeds for any updates. He would also be mortified I message those thoughts to my mother.

Oh, I almost forgot it’s Valentine’s Day ♡ 🥰

Modern Slavery

Modern SlaveryPeople everywhere are attached to their smart phones. I was no different. I used to have it with me all the time, sitting right there beside me but since having LASIK I cannot see the words on my iPhone. I was able to make the text bigger so I can still see texts but websites, apps and Facebook are out. Since I have not been using mine it makes me more aware of how much time other people spend on their phones (namely my husband). When my vision comes back I’ll probably be attached to mine again but for now, I am really not missing out on much.


Treat Her Right

Treat Her Right

Men, treat you wife right. She is not another woman. It has to do with appreciating her, with treating her as special. Does your wife feel special? Many husbands do for other women what they wouldn’t do for their own wives. They used to do it. They used to open up the car door every single time, now she’s hoping to get in before the car drives off. When love dies, marriage dies.

She must feel special. How do you make her feel special? By your words and actions from the heart. A random text during the day will make her feel special. Something like, “I’m right in the middle of something, but I just wanted to tell you I love you and I can’t wait to see you when I get home.” She’s going to beat you home! Because you just made her feel special. That took 30 seconds.

You also make her feel special with your gifts. I don’t mean a dozen roses. Writing little notes to her. When she’s making the bed and underneath the pillow is a note that says, “Every night I get to sleep next to you. I just want to let you know I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She’s special. Make her feel it. Sometimes it means telling her she’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever run into. Or that you couldn’t get your mind off of her all day. Sometimes it means drying the dishes while she washes them. Sometimes it means making one side of the bed while she makes the other. Why? Because those things will make her feel special.

If you only do this on anniversaries and such, this is too predictable. When you were dating you didn’t only do it on the anniversary, it would pop up here and there. It would keep popping up. She was bombarded with your love. First of all she probably didn’t like you, she didn’t think you were handsome. But you said to yourself, “I’m going to make you like me.” And you bombarded her with emails, texts, phone calls. In time, she began to say, “Why, he isn’t exactly a frog.” And you kept bombarding her, and she began to say, “He’s kind of cute.” And you kept bombarding her, and she calls up her girlfriend and says, “I’m in love!”

What happened? What happened is you making her feel special, something too many men stop doing once they get married. She fends for herself. When was the last date? I’m not talking about the last time you came home and said, “What do you want to do tonight?” That’s not a date. A date is, “Hey, I got this thing all planned, all you got to do is come along for the ride.” Now it’s not about you coming home, and having nothing to do, and saying, “What do you want to do?” Have the attitude that, “You are not left over, you are my evening!” Make her feel like the special woman she is.

Husbands, you’re the thermostat, you control the temperature. Your wife is the thermometer, she’ll tell you how it reads. So if you have it on 80, and she’s cold, the thermometer’s broken and you can fix it.






Be Careful with Your Words

There are hundreds of quotes praising silence, calling it a “source of great strength”, a “true friend that never betrays.”  Other quotes basically confirm that silence is “heartbreaking” and that it’s “the loudest scream”.

My mother had religiously told me that words once spoken can never be unspoken… she made sure I knew that silence is made of gold and that I can never blurt things to people that I can never take back. Her favourite was, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”  What she didn’t explain that I should never be silent about my pain and let it take control of me, and so, I stopped recognizing my destructive silence.

Years later, I have come to recognize my silence and what it does to me… Silence deafens me, be it mine or someone else’s.

My silence is a cold grip around my heart squeezing tears out of my eyes… my silence cripples my mind until it’s no longer able to tell thoughts apart… my silence makes my body get colder as it feels extremes of both pain and numbness… my silence absorbs the air out of my lungs making me struggle to breathe.

And so does your silence, because it provokes a silent volcano of pleads to not let me dwell on my fears and worries and assumptions that would tear me apart and then hand me to silence for I have nothing to base any spoken words on… and I can’t just speak my worries, my fears and my assumptions, because once they’re spoken, they are real (even if they never really applied) and I can no longer take them back.

So please don’t assume I know, don’t fear my reaction if I know, don’t worry about what speaking would do to me because nothing is as bad as silence… because silence lurks in the blur, away from the cleansing sun light.

Silence has no room between people who trust each other, so don’t encourage my silence with yours.



The Blues

the Blues

I don’t have a name for it.

It’s a feeling, instead.

It’s like a gremlin sitting on my chest, pushing the air out of me enough so that I can breathe in enough to stay alive, but not quite enough to get the feeling as though life is free and easy. I can picture this little gremlin – he’s green. Horns. Beady eyes. Pigeon-toed and knock-kneed.

I am very grateful for my life. Very, very grateful. I have the kind of life I never thought a loser like me would ever get to live. What I feel – and what I write here – is in no way a distraction from the degree of love I have for my life and those in it.

But I guess sometimes no matter how much time you spend sitting on a sofa, how much you stare inwardly at yourself through the shell you call your body, or how many tissues you cry your way through, sometimes the truth is there are those in the world who are prone to dark… to gremlins. Very rarely, I’ll get into a place where (gremlins again) I almost literally can’t talk. It’s as though it’s just too much effort to talk, to make conversation. It requires too much energy, too much spark, too much of something of which I am short of.

No matter how beautiful and full of light your life is, there can still be gremlins.

You wish things could change. You wish there could be peace and quiet in all parts of you. You wish people would stop demanding things of you in a way that make you feel like a tiny human being. You wish you would quit doubting that you could do those things people demand when you can, you fucking can. You wish time would either slow down or speed up but for Christ’s sake, stop just hanging out here. You wish you could reach out, be a better person. You wish you could be a better person. You wish you could just be better.

I still can’t sleep, and I’m tired all the time in a way that makes me feel as though I’m 80 years old.

I’m not stupid – I recognize this morning some of what’s going on. I got the blues, baby. I got the blues. Minor blues, it’s not major at all, just tinted that side of the spectrum.  Too long of a winter here in the North. A fight with my hubby that we still haven’t resolved. Combination of many things.

Nothing else to do but pull myself up and keep going, right? The body wears out but the mind keeps going. I need to paint myself in rainbow colors, and I need to start with the gremlin. I need to stop feeling dragged through life backwards, naked, upside down through a field of cactus. I was sitting there thinking that instead of living life, life is living me. Only that’s, you know, a stupid thing to say.

I’m not sure what I set out to say here, so I’m going to stop talking now.



More Than Words

More Than Words

You can say “I love you” as much as you want, say whatever you want, whenever you want. But, if you’re not going to prove that the things you say are true, then don’t say anything at all. Because, if you can’t show it, your words don’t mean a thing. – Author Unknown

There’s always a turning point in any relationship…a moment that makes or breaks it. You took a wrong turn somewhere and mired yourself into the muck, and now you’re spinning your wheels deeper and deeper.  It’s a sand trap, and you’re slowly sinking.  I think most relationships hit this point. I think this happens for a couple of different reasons, but I think the primary general factor that it all falls under is when complacency takes the guise of comfort.

Comfort is a slippery slope. Comfort turns to complacency, and complacency slowly kills a relationship because at some point comfort takes over romance.  Why?  Cause romance is hard work.  So the fundamental difference between comfort and complacency is that becoming complacent is a conscious choice.  You are making a decision to place the relationship on the back burner to work on the other aspects of life.  But generally when we become complacent, it means that we get lazy at working at it.  The comfort monster in our brain tells us “You shouldn’t have to work that hard for love.  Especially in an established relationship.” No matter what, the result is the same and that is an overall laziness…a complacency that becomes the downfall of many relationships.

Eventually, we all come to the realization that saying you love someone and meaning it are two separate things. I’m talking about people who simply stop trying, and live their routine every day believing that the love is there without ever having to work for it. Love can be attained in many ways, but not a single one of them takes an easy road.  There are no shortcuts.  It’s like raising a child…no good child that grew to be a good person, was ever raised in an environment where they were completely ignored and considered to be nothing but part of the “routine.”  No…they grow up to be the children who stab you in the kidney for a pair of slightly worn Nikes.

We all want our relationship to be full of life and love, and constantly moving and evolving. Sometimes it might not be a realistic ideal, but if you really care about each other, you should never stop trying.

Who I Am

Lonely Heart

Today I thought about who I am.

It’s not as easy as you think it is. You order it how you can – I am a woman. I am a mother. I am a wife. I am an employee. I am sister/daughter. I am a blonde-haired cat-owner. Walking Dead fan. I like to hold my hand out the window in warm weather and watch, as I turn my hand a little bit, the aerodynamics demonstrated with my hand how airplanes work. I like to walk barefoot in the grass. I like a heavy duvet on the bed because something about the weight of it identifies the solemnity of bedtime. I like travelling but I always like coming home, too. I am heart-breaker, heart-broken survivor, book-reading, wine-quaffing adult. I am all of those things and none of them specifically. I look back on my life and I remember every moment. The good, the bad, and the ugly.


And if I could I would go back and do it all over again, every part of it. Would changing the past make me a different person? One can only speculate.

Before I Sleep

Before I Sleep

I play scenes in my head that I can’t forget. I play scenes I love. I play the impossible.

I practice things I want to say. Then I find out there’s nothing left to say anymore.

I have endless “WHAT IFs”.  Endless.

I make plans for the next day only to realise my days are always the same. Wake up. Go to work. Eat. Come home. Sleep.

I think of all the people I miss. The people I love.

I think of the ones I hate. The one who hurts my feelings. The fucktard.

I ask myself questions, actually more like I have a conversation with myself.

Something’s not right. I sense it. My gut tells me so. This feeling of insecurity again. Maybe it’ll be gone when I wake up.

But still… fuck mind… just shut up and let me sleep.


Where we were seems to be buried so deep into the soil that I almost don’t remember how it was. I keep looking for moments that are long gone. That I try so hard to rekindle. I have muted all my emotions; tucked them deep inside – even to you nowadays – believing they’ll be safer with me.


I never feel I’m all that fascinating but clearly others do since I’m asked questions I would never dream of asking anyone else.

I’m not kidding, you could be on fire and unless you bring it up, I’ll just act as though you’re smoking – a lot.

Why is that?

Oh, call me crazy but it’s a little quirk I have called FUCKING PRIVACY.

Yes, there was a time you were actually born with it. It was built-in, like your belly button. There was no such thing as ‘Google Search’ or the government poking around into your personal affairs on a whim.

However, I am a good sport with nothing to hide so, go ahead, ask me anything but just so you know, it’s a one-time offer.

I’m Under a Little Black Rain Cloud

I work 12 hour shifts and most days I spend the entire time with very minimal human contact, quite often none at all. Usually it’s just me and these four walls.

I didn’t realise how much I’d miss the day-to-day social interaction of a busy office. I need interactions with other people because they are such a significant part of how I enjoy my life. All people seem to depend on varying amounts of social interaction to keep them happy, stable, and sane. This is not surprising given that human beings are social by nature. Drastically reducing the amount of normal social interaction is emotionally, physically, and psychologically destructive. Long periods of time alone is not good. When I’m alone with my thoughts for too long I start to question things in my life – of who I really am and what my world is really like.

I am feeling very isolated and alone. I wish my husband would realise just how lonely my job is and would text me more often throughout the day. I don’t think it’s too much to ask. But, I don’t have a falling star and no amount of wishing will change my reality. I sometimes feel like I’m “out of sight out of mind” with him. I’ve learned not to say anything, to keep my thoughts to myself (I know, not healthy at all). It would accomplish nothing because all I’d hear by saying anything is “toughen up” or “get used to it.” Sometimes I find it really difficult being strong all the time.

It doesn’t help that I have been working nights this week and he has been off sick.  I come home, sleep all day and he’s been awake. I’ve seen him for about 20 minutes each day before leaving for work. Tomorrow and the next day I am working nights and he is working days so I won’t get to see him at all until Saturday night since he’ll be gone when I get home and vice versa.

Guess I am feeling more than a little sad today. 😦

Sugar & Spice

Although I am a grown woman, inside, I still feel like a little girl. Age truly is a number. This likeness to a little girl also happens emotionally. I get upset and hurt easily, particularly if I feel (it’s a matter of perception) a “mean little boy” isn’t being so nice.

Like most women I know, I spend a good chunk of time standing in front of the mirror fixing my hair, trying on different outfits and then finding shoes to match those outfits. It’s probably about as long as my husband spends working on his car. I can’t brush my teeth, comb my hair and get dressed in a matter of 5 minutes; 15 minutes maybe, but don’t hold your breath.

I like the same things that most women do. I like shopping. I prefer wine over beer. I like jewellery. Oh and did I mention I love flowers? I’m starting realize that I love flowers as much as my husband loves a good piece of steak. I like the niceties in life A LOT. Chivalry is not dead to me. Equality is awesome, but in my opinion chivalry and equality can go hand in hand. (A man who holds a door open for me, or waits for me to get in the elevator, even though he was there first, scores high on my list.)

Let’s face it. Husbands and wives are different. At the end of the day, husbands are still boys and wives are still girls…and yes, I still think that I am made of sugar and spice and all things nice.  So let’s treat each other as equals and appreciate each other’s differences for what they are.



Watching People

As I watch everyone’s moves and listen carefully to what they say, I start thinking to myself and ask myself, “Isn’t it obvious”?

I believe people acknowledge what they want to acknowledge in order to protect themselves. They hide behind a curtain peaking over to see how they can hide in another place so that they won’t see “hurt” coming. I believe that if anyone applies their gut feeling within the beginning, a lot would be avoided. I guess people learn the hard way in life, which is not always bad. I believe that going through a certain situation makes you stronger the next time around.

I watch people be devious. It wakes me up and it reminds myself, who I don`t want to be. I don’t want to be that person that is hateful or deceitful. The one that takes pleasure in seeing others suffer, no matter what damage they do to me or anyone. Sneaky and liars.

I see those that are confused looking for direction. They need to see life in a different view. A view that brings them joy and hope. Although people who are confused are really never confused, they know deep down what to do, they are either afraid of taking the jump or they refuse to accept the obvious and go against their gut feelings. If you take a second to acknowledge your feelings, the obvious will become clear.

Watching people go through things in life is interesting because, you get to watch their errors and learn from them. You get to learn from a situation that you never went through however you were able to experience and watch the process.

It is important that we see in detail what goes on around us. If we do, it will open us to become more alert and avoid future mistakes.

That F Word

Why can’t I say FUCK?

It was brought to my attention that I have been using the ‘F WORD’ a bit too much lately “like salt,” he said.

I beg to differ. I don’t feel I’ve used it flagrantly enough.

First of all, it says so much for such a little guy. When chosen to explain how one’s feeling over something, over anything for that matter, it’s efficient, concise and knocks the doors off any sentence. How many words can you say that about? It’s not really a word you say, it’s considered slang – or crass, informal jargon for certain types of people? If that were true, and it’s not, I’d fight to be one of those people, I love it that much.

According to The American Heritage Dictionary, it’s most definitely a word and a very well represented one at that. “TO HAVE SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH – TO FOOL AROUND OR ENGAGE IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE – TO FUCK WITH – TO TREAT UNFAIRLY – FUCK OFF, AS TO LEAVE AT ONCE (and my personal favorite) TO BUNGLE, AS IN, TO FUCK UP” as in FUCKING UP a friendship. In high school a teacher told the class that the prostitutes of the Victorian era would get arrested and be charged For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge. Not sure if he was just joshing us or if it was fact (must Google it later)

I was raised never, ever to say the word FUCK. It was simply not permitted. I was told at a very early age if that sound ever came out of my mouth, my tongue would rot and my teeth would fall out. I remember being no more than 13 huddled in a corner of my room taking the mighty chance of whispering it just to see if anything would actually happen. I mean, how much harm could a whispered FUCK do to one’s tongue? Think about it. Maybe the most I’d get would be a cold sore. Also, if no one heard me say it, would it even count? I didn’t even let the cat in on it afraid she’d run and tell my mother. (I was 13 going on 3)

Now that I’m older and have said it enough times to disintegrate 1000 times over, I can happily report, that tongue and teeth business was only a myth. The lies our parents tell us like the moon is made of cheese and how kissing gets girls pregnant. If that were the case, I’d be that “Little Old Woman who lived in a shoe who had so many children she didn’t know what the FUCK to do” since I love kissing that much. Adding the word FUCK gave it more flavor, don’t you think? Like salt.

As for my critical friend who’s been demoted to casual acquaintance, I have but 2 words for him. GOOD LUCK!

Fooled you, didn’t I?


Freaking Cold

When I say I’m not ready for this cold snap I’m not kidding. I’m sitting here in so many layers of clothes I’m dressed in yoga pants, a tank top, T-shirt, a hoodie and knee-high socks. My warmer clothes are still packed away forcing me to be embarrassed even to myself.

Yes, I switch my closets over every season. What do you expect? I’m from Canada.

I remember growing up with plenty of fair warning, weather-wise. Fall arrived when it was supposed to giving you ample time to air out your winter clothes. But that was on the East coast since moving to the Great West North I have discovered autumn only lasts 2 weeks before winter sets in.

I’m cold and where are my winter clothes?

Well, my coats are stashed in the back of the downstairs closet. The rest of my warm things are neatly folded in totes in my bedroom closet.

Yes I know why don’t I just go there and get them? I will, but don’t rush me. You have to be in the right frame of mind to swap your seasons besides I am hoping summer is just sleeping off a drunk somewhere.

Don’t ask if I’m crazy, that’s not nice.People forget what happens to a sensitive woman when her temperature drops. She’s just not herself.


It never ceases to amaze me how well my husband and I fit together. It’s almost as if we were . . . made for each other.

Okay, I know that sounds really corny, but it’s absolutely the truth. But not in the way that it’s portrayed in movies and books and on TV. In the Hollywood version of made-for-each-other-ness, the stars align, there are violins and fireworks, and the main characters just “know.”

I’m finding, though, that in the “real world” it’s even more wonderful because you find out a little bit at a time. The pieces coming together a little more every day. I think that is so much better than a huge “a-ha!” moment, because what can compare to that one moment? We’re learning to treasure the tiny moments 🙂




Dream Land

It’s 4 o’clock … AM that is.

The world is dark.  The night is still.  The tired sleep … and I am awake, the green numbers on my bedside clock stare back, silently taunting me.

Why am I sitting here typing? I’m not sure. But someone needs to tell my brain that at 4 AM it’s supposed to be in DREAM LAND!!

So what else do you do when it’s 4 AM and you can’t sleep???? I go to my laptop and blog out my frustrations. And just for the fun of it, I Googled “insomnia” to see what I came up with.

I had to laugh (well, laugh quietly) as I found some REALLY interesting things. Like…

*There’s a company that makes video games called Insomniac – I guess people can be very creative when they can’t sleep.

*There’s a collection of quotes about the lack of sleep: Dear 3 AM, we’ve got o stop meeting like this, I’d much rather sleep with you.”

**There’s even a company called Insomnia Cookies that will deliver fresh-baked cookies to your dorm room in college if you can’t sleep. (Ummm…where’s the company that will silently deliver cookies to mom’s when they can’t sleep? I’d sign up for that one.)     




Unique Individual

I consider myself to be a Unique individual. One that loves life for what it is.

Although certain situations in life either differ to something beautiful or to something that is not as pleasant, I usually take things for
what they are. I find myself seeking why the actions happened the way they did. What I could have learned out of it. What was something I could do in the future to avoid a repeat of what happened.

I see a lot of people dwell on their past. I see that people do not realise that they don’t need to dwell on a past. Why spend more time on something that you cannot change or “hoped” to be different. I believe that every person should make peace with their circumstances and situations.

I also see a lot of people looking for love in all the wrong places. I can honestly admit that I have gone through this trial and error in life. I can say that it was an interesting one. What I thought I once wanted is not what I want now.

Love is something that you must learn. This is not something that we just jump into (Like most of us do). Love is an emotion that everyone enjoys feeling. The emotion of having a new person, new company, attraction and that feeling of excitement. After we feel this feeling, little by little we start finding faults. We want to change them in some way to accommodate our feelings. The other person than gets tired of “acting” like another person. We allow our partner to change who we are.  Once we realize this point, we start to re-think our actions. We get bored and need change.  Routines start to settle in and we become slaves to each-other.

I believe if you start degrading yourself (ie: “I’m Fat”, ”I’m so ugly”, “She is better looking than me”) then you will start believing what you are thinking. Insecurities and rebellion come to play. This means, YOU do not love yourself. In the past, I never really knew what loving myself truly meant. Heck, I thought everyone naturally loved themselves. Then I started to realise how negative I was and how verbally abusive I was to myself. This is when I realised my ugly truth.

I believe that if everyone STOPPED, sat down, looked around and smelled the fresh air, we could finally see a beautiful creation. Analyse what is going on around us. Not everyone takes a moment to chill. This is quite sad.

I believe that if we all took some time out to ourselves, not only would we start loving ourselves, but we would be less stressed in life. We would be able to enjoy what is around us and what we truly live for. We start to realise that we are slaves in this world, trying to make a living and paying our dues. We should not be our own slaves at home. This is the perfect time to have self-love and stop the routines and stress in our lives.

Be yourself. Who cares what people think.


Idealists want justice, fairness, prosperity, peace, and happiness for everyone. Idealists want to change the way the world works so that everyone has an ideal life.

The worst part about being an idealist is that you can never be happy. Not in the Machiavellian sense anyway. It’s just not in the nature of how idealism works. The way folks handle being presented with what they want often confounds the entire concept. The best thing about it is that you must really learn to appreciate the process of pursuing perfection, the flaws that highlight the solutions. To  respect the toil and uncertainty and unrecognisable reality that there is no promise that the end will justify your means. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t do it all anyway.




Making Sense of It All

Sometimes you want to reach out and ask the universe for help. You wonder if you shout, if anyone will hear you, if anyone will come. But your problems aren’t the universe’s problem and your shouts get lost in the fog that surrounds the worlds and worlds of other problems and questions.

You wonder about strength, you wonder why people talk about it so much. Why do people talk about having it, about achieving it, about acquiring it, when the truth is they had it anyway. They did and you did and we did and sometimes strength isn’t what you’re looking for after all. It’s something more. It’s the knowledge to know that some things are beyond you. It’s the acceptance that your shouts at the universe will go unheard, that the questions you demand answers for will remain unresolved.

This then is the battle.

That and looking yourself in the mirror and knowing that where you are is the result of your actions. If you are able to look your eyes in the mirror then you can proceed. If you can’t meet your gaze, then something’s not right. Maybe you messed up. Maybe it’s the world that messed up. But if you look away then you’re giving in.

But really the problem is you’ve changed, and now the reflection in the mirror isn’t the one you have in your mind’s eye. The universe has changed you. Your decisions have changed you. Something happened to you and you’ll never be the same now, and perhaps it’s difficult to incorporate that into the image you see staring back at you.

And when bitterness floods your throat and winter wind rattles through your bones you stop asking the universe your questions. It’s not a good companion, anyway. It never answers you back. You’re sick of the sly mysticism, the flirtatious silence.

A part of you is frozen but the rest of you can function and that’s what’s important. You tell yourself to stop asking questions, to stop demanding, to keep the anger at bay, to stop thinking at all because you need some peace and quiet in your brain, for just a short while.

And through it all, you raise a clenched fist at the sky and tell it you don’t want to be treated that way anymore, that you’ve had enough of its lousy games. Find another companion. This one has better things to do.