If we are lucky, we get good parents. Over the years my parents have told me things and taught me things. Somethings never registered in my brain, others didn’t register for a long time. I can’t say I’ve listened to everything, but sometimes I will remember then and they help me.
You probably know someone who has a mental illness. By a raise of hands, who has the company of a little thing call, mental illness? Oh you? And you? you? And of course me. See I told you there was a lot of us. It isn’t exactly rare. And even though we aren’t, it feels like so often we are alone.
Ah! A good old-fashioned 9 to 5 job. Something we all want in our lives. A soul sucking reason to get out of bed in the morning. So fun.
I get it. Some people love working a traditional job and it works for them. Yay for you. But I’m not those people. In fact, working a traditional job is not something that I am sure I really want to do anymore. That’s why I write these crappy little posts on this blog and write my own novels. For some reason I think I’m special and I’ll make something out of myself. But that is neither here not there.