Still (sur)Rendering

All great truths begin as blasphemies.
George Bernard Shaw
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There is nothing to read here. The content is over there, to your right.

I may, however, at some point, put something here. Some day. Eventually. No pressure.


the big four - oh

It's M.'s birthday and he's miserable about it. He's been miserable about it for weeks now, actually.

He's old.

He's grey.

He's overweight.

His joints ache.

He's falling apart.

Why would I possibly want to stay with him?

*sigh*

Don't plant any ideas in my head, dear. You're pissing me off enough as it is.

I don't know what to do. He doesn't want a party, he doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want sex, he doesn't want anything. My hands are tied (I even offered that). Everything's refused.

Is this normal? I mean, he's never been fond of having birthdays, being quite content to act like a 16 year old for the most part. But this time, I don't know...

He lost his father only a few months ago, I know that has to play a part in it. And 40 is the 'beginning of the end', as his pleasantly youthful little brother has pointed out. And his kids are pre- and teen-agers, so they aren't too inspired to sing his praises.

And just maybe he's been married to the same woman for too long.

jesus.

What now?

What do I do?



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