Boxes of choices in my brain and what not ....

In my ears I have the lyrics of Daniel Merrweather ecoing away as he sings "Red".

I could use only one setence by him if I may"Love doesn`t live here...".

Well that you could be anywhere in this blue planet we call home,but more geographically speaking it is North Manchester library,in obviously Manchester,England.

One small town in this fast country known as Great Britain.

One small dot of land in this globe I call home.

A dot of pretty much insignificance in this great scale of life.

I see what happens around the world and everything that I do related to the major events that are shaping our world are pretty much redundant.

But then again isn`t that pretty much true for all I of us ?

I see myself hearing what my sons accomplish at school every day and that is important,very important indeed,but me here working and paying bills is simply so they can grow and become all that they can be.

And I reason with myself about how I have yet put my dreams of becopming something else in the corner of my live in order to rasie this two men.

Because their happiness is prior and more valued than mine own!

But the sadness of reading something that captivates me and the fact I have no one to talk politics with or even someone looking at me when I eat my evening meals,that is my life...

What makes me be ?

Is it because I breath ?

Or because I think and reason with thoughts based on past experience and accumulated knowledge ?

Is it because I am still here ?

I don`t know.

I am still looking for the answer to that one.

This strong feeling of wanting to become a psychologist is still there in a box in a place safe guarded in my "what to do about the future boxes", brain.

Not put away for good,not forgoten.

Still waiting to be one again brought forward and opened up.

The End

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