Stories, Lessons and Humour.

 I spoke with my friend today (if you ever read this, just know that I had a great time catching up). He was talking about a friend of his and how her personality affected the way their relationship unfolded. I think it was such a fitting conversation for Girlfriend’s Day. As I thought about the conversation, my heart started to bleed for the girls. Girls, in general, as we navigate this world. We create different versions of ourselves to stay sane in this world, to keep up not with trends or what’s in vogue, but to survive and maintain our sanity in a world where people see us as conquests and playthings, a means to an end.  My heart bled for all those versions; The one that people have treated in ways that have damaged the people they could have been The versions of ourselves that we will never get to experience again, because people forced us to bury those versions The versions of ourselves that we gave to people, because only them could have handled it The versions of ours...

  I hate how we talk about death like it is not guilty and responsible for the things that it has committed. We speak of it like it is absent and guiltless, a phenomena that exists but can't be touched. We blame the person, their habits, the system, the people, the things, even time gets a hit, but we never blame death. We talk about it like it isn't there in the midst of the conversation looking lovingly at who it takes next or the watching angrily at the one who got away. We go round and round in circles seeking explanations from whatever it is that we can find, but we never hold death itself responsible for its actions and the resulting consequences. But what exactly do we hold? The same emptiness and void that ceases not just a person's life, but their very existence - their smell, their touch, their presence, them. So bad that you see their body but it's not them. You touch them but it's no longer them. The same destroyer that works with time to slowly remove t...