Why am I still here? What do I still have to offer this existence called Life?
I offer a place for friends to drop by, I write stupid words on an old mans blog. I forgive people their weakness, because I have my own.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the hell out of life, I just keep having to ask the question, why?
Being retired and having the freedom to go anywhere I want to is cool, until I can't, because:
• My body isn't working right, I walk like I'm drunk, sometimes I am. My right arm hurts.
• Addictions have their hold on me.
• I'm not motivated, my one self has not been able to produce any motivation, sadly.
Wishing my passenger seat was filled with a vivacious woman. I've been lucky to have Shelby and Mystery Woman ride shotgun with me recently, now it's empty.
The initial question was, why am I still here? I'm here because I was meant to be, to look you in the eyes through this screen with my words, and say hello.