"Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end." --William Shakespeare
Thanks to Drudge, I am now convinced that Sheryl Crow is a bumbling idiot. ONE SQUARE?!? It should have been apparent by her twiggy frame, but now we know for sure this woman has never had her period. One square. My GOD, woman.
I'm angry this morning. Yes, Shakespeare, I hear you ringing in my ears, In time we hate which we often fear. I'm angry because I'm about to lose someone I never really had. I hate that there is nothing to be done about death, and I hate it so much because I fear it and everything it entails. Loss. Uncontrollable change.
It's Monday. I just did an interview and it was not sufficient enough for a story. I'll have to do several more. In this mood, I must slap a smile on my face, they can hear it in your voice, you know, whether or not you're smiling, and ask pointed questions in hopes that someone might give the perfect answer. I will pretend that the unanswerable question is not blaring from the back of my mind, shouting and screaming, bellowing and growling like an animal in pain: Why?
We'll never know. Such is life. The only thing we know for sure, is that it will end.