The impact of the diagnosis had been devastating. Her thoughts flew to the old days-the good days, she thought wryly. Were they ever good? The introspection had begun some days ago. She had started asking questions about herself. About things she had never imagined could even be questioned. Things like breakfast. What is there to question about breakfast? Well, try this - Why should I make breakfast. Or any other food for that matter. Why wash the clothes?
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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