I Hate Time. It Never Does What

When Even The Scrupulously Detached Bbc Is Exhorting Us To Talk To God, You Know Something Is Going On.

But What Else Can We Do When We're So Weak? We Invest Hours Each Day, Months Each Year, Years Each Lifetime In Something Over Which We Have No Control; It Is Any Wonder Then, That We Are Reduced To Creating Ingenious But Bizarre Liturgies Designed To Give Us The Illusion That We Are Powerful After All, Just As Every Other Primitive Community Has Done When Faced With A Deep And Apparently Impenetrable Mystery?

I May Not Know The Weight Of Those Things, But I Could Feel The Weight Of That One, So I Kept It To Myself. You Know That Things Aren't Going Well For You When You Can't Even Tell People The Simplest Fact About Your Life, Just Because They'll Presume You're Asking Them To Feel Sorry For You. I Suppose It's Why You Feel So Far Away From Everyone, In The End; Anything You Can Think Of To Tell Them Just Ends Up Making Them Feel Terrible.

When Your Sad--like Really Sad--you Only Want To Be With Other People Who Are Sad.

Hard Is Trying To Rebuild Yourself, Piece By Piece, With No Instruction Book, And No Clue As To Where All The Important Bits Are Supposed To Go.