Don't mind me, I'm just thinking aloud.
Life is a ruddy strange thing. On the one hand it is so precious and beautiful, on the other it is worthless and the long deepest sleep of death seems so inviting. What IS the REAL point of it all?
Don't worry, I'm happy enough. Happy enough that I realise that true joy does not come without it's real sadnesses too.
Do I try to fool myself, that life is going well, when underneath I feel that everything is quite pointless? Why do the words of Solomon in Ecllesiastes feel so true, that all is a chasing after the wind, all is futility.
I do love life and nothing makes me happier than to see others enjoying themselves. But life seems to be passing me by and I do not understand why. There are a great many why's in life, this I have come to understand. There is nothing certain in life. Just when you think that you have either made it, or that you have an understanding of life and it's meaning, something or other, comes along, whacks into the face of your emotions, at the end of which, you realise that all is futility itself. Why must life be so?
Maybe I feel incomplete? Maybe I feel incomplete because I do not have someone to look after as though she were my very own soul? Maybe this is the root source of my problem/s, who can truly tell, who can truly tell the completeness and give total understanding to the roots of our own personal, thinking processes?
Why is this so and why is that so? Why do things have to be this way? Why is it that as soon as you think you have through the journey'ed experience acquired answers, only to face yourself once more and realise that everything you think for yourself is such a load of [EDIT] crap, that you know nothing?
Who has answers, are there any? Yes, just chill mark, be appreciative, be kind, be loyal, be faithful, be loving, biut all of this to what end, it is all a chasing after the wind, a chasing after ones tail. For who is to say that one is foolish or wise? For inasmuch the second I think I have answers based on my own experience and perception, I am rudely reminded of my own presumptousness in gathering for myself this inner knowledge that I have thus gained such correctly, when in fact, the reasoning behind such, is cockeyed to say the least. What is the real point to it all?
What is the point to it all? To tell everyone, everything is going to be ok? Is this in and of itself lying, lying to myself and others? From whence can I base such assumption? All is hopeless this self denial of real truth, though what is real REAL truth if it will not reveal itself untoward ones soul?
The Celt looks puzzled like a dog with forlorn expression.
What the ruddy dickens in the answer and understanding of absolutely EVERYTHING?
Ruddy ruddy ruddy hell.
Streuth.
Blimey.
Oh my giddy aunt, we go round and round in ruddy blinkin ruddy circles.
Celty looks up and ....