I saw several mourners attending a funeral sheltering from the rain as the coffin was hoisted onto the shoulders of four smartly dressed pallbearers. They struggled with the weight, but in the end, they managed to walk the short distance to the church without dropping it. Stood there watching, it struck me that one day it would be me inside that box, and no matter how hard I try, there’s just no way of knowing when that day will come. Maybe I’ll be missed, or perhaps hardly a soul will notice. It got me thinking about when Sarah and I buried Bethany, and how tiny her white coffin had been. Such memories are blurred now, but they still swim within this jarred head of mine on afternoons when the world is all but lost. The rain coming down hard, the scent of freshly cut grass made me close my eyes and smile. People have been doing the same thing for years, and to think of how many that have gone before us who did as we do now. We think we’re the shit, but we’re nothing much. An eclectic mix of different tastes for sure, but other than that, we differ so little. Some have bodies we want to fuck until the early hours, and some have money. Some are mad, while others are as mundane as the babble you get when shopping in a busy supermarket. Not that it matters anyhow. We live and die in the time it takes the universe to blink an eye, and then that’s it. Wondering who it was they were carrying, I’m also trying to figure out with which lover I spent so many hours attempting to find their G-Spot. I remember the feeling of their insides, and how my fingers would ache from sliding over all of those hidden plastic mountains, but their face is a shadow, and the shadow just won’t shift. It’s been a year since I was in a relationship- my longest stretch without one since 2008. It doesn’t bother me much, but there are times when it sucks not to have someone to talk to. Writing is my life, and yet as much as I pretend, I’m not a machine. It would be nice to be, but alas this shell just isn’t tough enough.