Who’s counting?

For years I used to inflict my dad-joke type hilarious announcement of “I’ll be 29 already this upcoming birthday!” And yes, I enjoyed the groaning and half-smiles this invariably used to raise. Of course, this was when I had a family of my own to dadjoke around.


I’ve recently started telling my family and one or two friends now, that henceforth I shan’t be celebrating any more of my birthdays. No great drama or anything, there’s just nothing to celebrate.

And no need for any well-meaning easy-peasey hopey-lovey-lifey memes. It’s not a matter of being pessimistic. It’s just being realistic. I won’t be celebrating – I will be counting down ..

Again, for those thinking I am not a very optimistic kind of so-and-so, that’s really not what is happening here. Just look up YOPD and how the only thing about PD that we can be remotely certain about is that it will inevitably get worse. All the time. No matter what. And it hasn’t been that great up to now or right now, for that matter.

Add to that the manner in which I’ve been obliged to live these past few years, forever trying desperately to forge some kind of mini-future against the odds and then some, and perhaps you’ll understand I am getting very very tired.

Still in the process of trying to disentangle myself from my slice of Paradise, I am hanging on this very week hoping to find out whether or not a modicum of a semblance of something one might call a life of sorts might yet be on the cards.

It’s anyone’s guess, really.










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