Self-talk pep-talk blah blah

Lately I’ve been asking myself whether I have any right to add to the general blog noise. Real people already have a lot to say. But I’m not a real person, not a real middle-aged adult: they have partners, children, careers, mortgages, things to do and places to go. I have no life of any interest whatsoever, or not at the moment. What have I got to say worth listening to?

And here now is my answer: whatever I bloody well want. I’m a real person, just as you are, regardless of circumstances. That’s the only justification we need for existence: we exist. I’m real, and so are you. I think and feel and have opinions and thoughts. So do you. That’s enough.

What are we for, we Pitiful Human Sods? We’re not all going to be great. We’re not all going to be memorable. We’re just one person, each of us, just an individual, just a one, just a piddling one only among fucking billions. What does it matter? What if each of us never achieves anything? What if - in the eyes of the world - we’re nothing?

Are we nothing? Vote no, now, loudly. We matter. Idiots all, together alone, together together, we matter. That’s it and that’s all. You’re a whole universe in yourself. You and me, both of us, we matter, and if you can’t be decided, then take my word for it, you matter. That’s all you need to know. It’ll take you through everything that comes, and shit is coming sometime, you can bet on it.

Say yes and smile. Look on the bright side: the flipside, the B-side, the other side, right here, wherever you are. The will to life. It’s more powerful than you. And that’s the thing that saves us. Yes, I’m trying to convince myself. And why the hell not, eh? I can. And I think it’s working.