I’m tired. It’s only 8:08pm and I’m tired. I could sleep. I’ve noticed my thoughts are a little faster. My ears are ringing a little. I’m aware that soon it will be the date of the birth of the man who fathered me. A strange time. A strange time of year too. Dreams and reality. The year turns. Lots of things tire me. Riddles in the dark. Bipolar is like a tv programme. You never know what an episode may bring. Do I still write this for myself now I wonder? I’ve wondered today about not writing anymore. I’ve said lots. Is there more to say? Maybe I’ll talk about death. Death is avoided by most. Well the subject is not the actual dying. We all die. We don’t all get to choose how or when we die. Is suicide really so bad? Is it really so far out there in societies ‘norms’ so as to be frowned upon? We all die. We will all be dead one day. I wonder what I wonder? Hmmm I wonder. Wonderful wondrous wonder. It’s all shit and bullshit.