🤷‍♂️ 😃 🎊

If I were to write any kind of letter to myself how might it go? Hmmm… maybe something like… Brian. I’m sorry that this thing has become so gigantic and hard on you. I am so very sorry what it takes from you, your personality, etc. However, I need to tell you how proud I am at how you have actually tried to handle what must surely feel like The Impossible for you at this stage. People love you, so much so it’s actually incredibly nice to witness. And I know you more often than not don’t actually get to even play a part in so far as how that might feel for yourself. That feeling of being loved and cared about, of being looked after ALL THE WAY. You will always be looked after. By your mother, your father, your brother, your sister. Your closest friends. No one wants to see you fall. It might feel like everyone has disappeared a little bit sometimes but you know they’re all just living their own lives, doing their own thing. Resting their heads after a hard days work. I’m sorry that this thing for you actually only ever boils down to a cripplingly paralysing and utterly illogical mental disorder. And I know that when it gets bad… it’s… it’s maybe precisely where the chaotic poetry scribbles came from in the first place, I guess. Silver lining’s, eh! You weren’t really ever even given the chance to enter the game of life, or whatever it is called, to be honest, and I know that doesn’t hurt you too much because, well, you’ve accepted the disorder for what it is a long, long time ago. Anyhow, keep doing what you are doing. And keep… keeping on, and keep looking after those people who you care about the most in the world. Even when it is impossible in your head. You were, in fact, put here to create and live in-and-around that creating process. That’s just the truth. You get that, too, by now. Nothing but utter, utter love for you, my boy. And be sure to let that happiness inside of your head live out-loud and proud! Because, my man, do you mother fuuuucking deserve it like no-one’s business!!