“Well, I did find myself on another astral plane once. It wasn’t as scary as it could have been.”
“Why are you talking as it I asked you a question? Because, seriously dude, I didn’t ask you anything.”
“I didn’t talk to imaginary people or see monsters around every corner.”
“I’m not listening to you.”
“Everything was really bright. All I heard was this voice telling me that they’d just bought some pineapple.”
“Dude, that was me like 10 minutes ago.”
“Oh…Then what about the light?”
“You were staring at the bug zapper.”

I’m 7th on the waiting list.

List for what?

The old age home.

…You’re 26 years old.

So?

Don’t you have to be like, old, or something?

Maybe, but I think it’s how you feel that counts.

You feel old? Really.

I’m watching Jeopardy and getting ready for bed.

It’s only 7pm?

Exactly.

Our dear poor old Nelson bought a bright new car.
He treated it like his child.
He washed it, petted it and even talked to it; He loved that thing.

So much so, he even gave it a name:

Dorean.

One day after their year of bliss together, Nelson went to start his dear Dorean and all he got was one loud

CLUNK.

Three hourse later, he tried again.

CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK.

His neighbour came out to investigate the sound and after some coaxing, Nelson let him try to start his Dorean.

On the first turn of the ignition, off she went, her enging started purring. But the neighbour didn’t get out right away. Instead he drove her around the block just to make sure everything was ok.

Dorean never started for Nelson ever again.

Oh, our dear poor old Nelson: Who knew a car could cheat on you?

“Does it actually exist?”
“What?”
“Heaven. Does it actually exist?”
“Why’re you askin’ me?”
“Who else would I?”
“Anyone but me! What the fuck do I know about anything? I’m 20, broke, unemployed and still living in my parents house where I’m completely ignored. I don’t know jack.”
“But you’re the only one that’s here,  so what do you think?”
“…Yes.”
“Really! Why?”
“Because I’m living there.”

There was this swinging gay straight man living in the city.

He was eccentric and often went about town in full safari gear. Rifle and all.

It seemed like he was so above everything and everyone, that no one bothered to hate or to love him, or think of him in anyway at all. He just didn’t seem possible. Seriously, how can someone have that much Quirk?

But there were always people with him.

Men, women, men dressed as women, women dressed as men, straight people, gay people, alien people – Everyone wanted to be there, be next to him; touch him.

Yes, he had just too much quirk but most people had none, and they wanted some. They wanted to touch it so they could feel special even just for that moment.

So they swarmed.

And so did the police.

The cops didn’t take kindly to the rifle slung about his shoulders and shot him dead in the middle of Times’ Square.

The witnesses to the event, the people that had been with him, swore in testimony later that there had been a flash of , almost heavenly, blinding light when the bullet had pierced his chest and they all felt a surge of warmth and insanity course through them.

It was written off as shock, and the cops were called heroes.

There was a sudden rise in sales of safari hats that year.

Yes, he really was a Special Boy.

He gave us love and happiness, taught us to love adventure and revel in the simple mysteries that could be found in everyday.

He was a little boy I used to know, who went about with a bear in a large 100 acre wood.

He was thoughtful, kind and I took it all for granted.

I never knew until it was too late. Never knew how much he gave me, until I grew up and read the stories about him to my own special boy.

He’s wrapped up in the adventure and mysteries now too, but I can already see the change.

We all have to grow up, just like dear Christopher Robin had to.

Grow up and leave out dearest friend in the forest.

My heart goes out to celebrities.
They are just people like you and I, they just have a job that comes with a ball and chain; us.
I’m a little more than a bit obsessive about TV and movies, especially when it comes to the characters, but I would never, EVER, walk up to or bother a noted personality. Autographs are ridiculous, I mean seriously, what does it mean it you have this persons scribbled name on a photo?
Nothing.
You want to be close to someone famous?
They’re you fellow human that live on planet earth, how much closer can you get?

Accept that you’re Doomed.
Love that you are Alone.
Believe that it might not be a Test.
Trust that in the End,
It will be Okay.

It Will.

You’ll see.

They kept telling him to swallow his pride and apologize, but what the fuck did they know?
He didn’t have any pride and hadn’t for a long time.
He’d been born with it, oh yes, just like every other unfortunate soul out there, but he was one of the lucky ones. He shed it the first chance he got and never looked back.
But now, standing in front of him, these people were telling him: ‘Yes’ he had pride and was letting it get in the way of apologizing to a woman whose heart he apparently broke because he slept with another woman.
It wasn’t pride that was stopping him, it was just that he wasn’t guilty, and he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just really bored of sleeping with the same woman every night, and that is exactly what he told her.
She slapped him and ran away.
See, that’s why he got rid of pride. He harmed hers and now she was a wreck.
Nothing could ever do that to him.
He was bulletproof.