excuse my french.

argh. frustrations.

just where did we go wrong?
when did it end up like this?

this pressure. this invisible pressure.
this head. this expanding head.
these shoulders. these heavy shoulders.

i'm sorry, but what the fuck.

i am the master of my fate, i am the captain of my soul.
i am the master of my fate, i am the captain of my soul.
i am the master of my fate, i am the captain of my soul.
i am the master of my fate, i am the captain of my soul.

day three.

okay, i know i said i'd do this. take this break. a short one. after all, i spent the whole of last year slogging at work while receiving a temp worker's pay. yes, as i would say, i spent the year being Chandler Bing.

but it's barely day 3 into the start of my break and i'm already feeling the complete uselessness of someone not earning anything.

good god, i'm a 40-year-old trapped in a 21-year-old's body.

no more brown.

officially jobless.

Life.

"i want you to be smiling when i see you."
that's what he said to me the last time we spoke on the phone.

rest in peace, Uncle Colin.