Do you ever...

Do you ever get up in the morning, and womder,... 'what the hell am I doing here?'

Have I died, and gone to some parallel universe?

Is this my real life, or some hideous parody?

Surely, nothing could jest about such sadness? Or speak of hope and gladness to be alive, when faced with the reality.

Our ongoing journey seems to be an overwhelming battle, with no light at the end of the tunnel.

We try to think of our distant ancestors, who had nothing, compared to our modern life.
We wonder how they coped. We just cannot imagine. Somehow, the thoughts of their struggles, does little to ease our current pain.

I have recurrant dreams of 'normalcy' when my son still had two legs. I see him walking and pursuing activities involving both of his legs. I see him, as I know him, whole and perfect.
He is still perfect, of course, but he is now diminished in his perfection. Not, in my perception, He will always remian Perfect to me.

We try to turn our faces away, from our own imperfections, and are shocked to see a reflection, of some imperfection society might see in ourselves, or our offspring.

My eldest son has turned 50, and I find it so sad. I wish I had been with him, to mark this birthday, as  I was, at his initial birthday.. He does not, nor ever has, put credence to numbers. As he said, it is just another number, and not to be celebrated, or mourned. He feels he is lucky to be alive, and living his life.

I try not to be Sad Sack.

I no longer trust anyone, and I no longer expect that life will deliver, what we see, to be a fair balance.

It is not so much the lies, as the Sins of Omission that I find so disgusting.

Rufus Wainwright. Hallehujea.