#or question

Yesterday two of my boys asked me what was the meaning of life. So I of course said 42.

I didn’t know they had googled it first, and they were like WAIT WHAT IS THE JOKE

GOOGLE SAID THAT TOO

WHAT DID WE MISS

a lot has changed in terms of my views on religion, life and death, my future. everything i've ever secretly believed in my heart and soul has been affirmed and this is an attempt to recollect the pieces of my true self i've lost along the way, back when it was so unadultered.

i wish i had the discipline to try and do this longhand, in a journal. but there's something to be learned from you all, and your thoughts are just as important to my self-evolution as my own are. it's one of my personal challenges, anyway, being open to criticism and opposition. i've been... not afraid but very reserved with sharing what i believed. it's always felt like i would never get it back in the same form i sent it out in. resistance to change, another challenge.

sometimes i accuse the audience receiving my thoughts, of being too ignorant to handle it. but it isn't an issue of ego (i really do hope), but rather stems from fear. of ridicule, rejection, ostracism if they ever came to light.

when i was younger, what started as peeve of mine, being misunderstood, multiplied into fear. which became why i had always preferred speaking over writing. writing was too easy to misconstrue, too easy to misinterpret. if i could instead express my thoughts and ideas directly, where i could immediately follow up a concern or question, then there was very little room for misunderstanding. point would be ultimately made. over time, my writing and my ability to speak merged. i was able to express to the point of perfection. my writing had become a shadow of my voice. but over even more time, my mind, my current one, developed pores. large gaps where a well of words presided. my mental strands are frail. i feel... weak. decaying. and in only 3 years.