Puzzled

Things to do, but no desire whatsoever to do them. Places to be, but no plans to go there. Drinks to drinks, but no thirst to drink them. Books to read, but no energy to read them. Quite what the f**k is wrong with me I have no idea.

Missing

Looking through a collection of photos taken over the years I notice that there is something, or rather someone, absent. Me. I'm an observer but seemingly not a participant. The old adage that a picture speaks a thousand words seems rather apt.

Small silver linings

Being in the midst of a global financial crisis and then being reminded that you never had any money to begin with.

Talking

Now, I shouldn't probably admit this, at risk of being labelled a loony. But I sometimes talk to myself. Thankfully It doesn't involve speaking in tongues, using the third person, or anything like that. So I've always put it down as being rather harmless. Or at least that's what I say to myself. Rather literally.

Family, previous partners. They've all put up with it in some shape or form. Thankfully.

Since I was young it was always a way of getting thoughts out into the open, whereby the act of seemingly just saying something out loud made it somehow more real. And when it was real it could be acted upon. Or not as the case may be.

But of late it seems the words just go round in circles. And ultimately nothing is done about them. Inevitable perhaps as the person listening is the same person as the one speaking. So not really the best place to find vigorous debate and argument. But at what point do you decide that enough is enough. That it's time to say shut up to yourself and just move on with life.

Answers on a postcard please to the usual address....