Reading time: 2 mins

Life is a funny old thing, hell you don’t need me to tell you that. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything down, committed it to a storable electronic format, not really sure why I am, but just know that I need to.

It’s funny how a few things can jog the memory, a conversation here, a bit of information there, and you are soon comparing and analysing it, pulling it to pieces, reliving the experiences as best you can, even if you don’t want to.

Now this all makes me seem like I am craving martyrdom or suchlike. I prefer to think of it as an exercise in self-awareness, and ability to…aww crap who am I kidding.

I write this stuff prompted by life events. Sounds grandiose doesn’t it, but a conversation can be a life event. Recognising it as such is usually the difficult bit. However I am a great believer, as has been drummed into me, in talking, getting things off your chest. So conversation is crucial, be it about minor, silly things, to major life events. It all comes out in a conversation.

Conversation brings people together, even if the conversation is not prompted or lead by one person, the sharing of thoughts and ideas can be a revelation, and lightening of the load, or at least a sharing of the burden. Friendships and relationships flourish through conversation. Honesty is a lonely place, sharing it with someone, sometimes with anyone, makes it bearable – why do you think you get a lonely persons life story in one conversation? By including you in their space, the loneliness is eased.

The reverse of this is the pleasure some people, myself included, find in seclusion. Peace and tranquility are becoming harder and harder to find in today’s busy world, but it becomes a must. Seeking out loneliness to face the truth, confronting yourself with honesty. Before you can talk to others, you must talk to yourself. It doesn’t always work that way of course, but again, you don’t need me to tell you that.