When winter gets ready to pack up and leave I feel sad. It is a bit like a faithful friend departing. I know, he will be back. Even when I am not here anymore he will definitely be back. Looking for old buddies. Draped in the white he loves. With his heart all cold as ever. Making you wish he won't be so constant. And then leaving you feeling nostalgic. I am sure the grim reaper is white. That is not the color he is usually portrayed in, but what else can it be, but white. Maybe he even has a dove for a pet.
Pondering on the reason for one's existence is hardly the sort of thing one ought to be doing these days. But, there being nothing really worthwhile about life, about being alive, or even about feeling alive, this is just the kind of futile occupation that appeals to loner's of my sort. So here I am, by my favourite watering hole, listening to the silence of eons. Maybe I am weird, like some nice people have kindly pointed out. What they have not been able to point out though, is the reason for my weirdness or anybody elses weirdness. I guess, sitting by all by oneself, by the side of a sullen lake is weird. Fine. So I am a weird loner. Thank you very much. That is what loners are ! Anyway, I haven't posted anything at all for a long time. Even my best friends seem to have given up on me. It is tough being a loner. It is tougher being a weird loner.
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