I'm playing witness to some horrid drama; or perhaps involved in one, if you consider close relatives being involved as some form of involvement.

I won't go into the details. quite private I guess but it's been a quick study in the collapse of life. Kinda makes you wonder what's the point of working so hard; expending one's efforts in the struggle when everything can crumble apart so damn easily.

Finished reading One Day by David Nicholls awhile ago; my sister borrowed it from a friend, I picked it up to take a look, and couldn't put it down thereafter. Quite a poignant read, wasn't trashy at all, and I can only wish I could portray such emotion and fluency in my writing (I can't).


"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players"

We're quite the consummate professionals. Regardless of how dilapidated the stage we stand upon; how shitty a script we're handed; how empty and uncaring the audience; we carry on, persisting in our given roles; and never, ever, jump off the stage, or refuse to stage the show. Propelled by the irresistible force that is Life.