There are times in a life hen separating the voices in your head into a discernible dialogue is difficult at best; what with all the screaming going on, in your head.
A conversation with your priest, shrink, barman would be helpful.
All the priests I know would fear for the state of the Church if it became known that I had entered His house.
As for my shrink, she’s booked three months out, wants lots of money and in the end would throw pills at me or better yet, put the electrodes back to the temples and make me forget about it all.
If I could find a decent barman/woman, that was over the age of 16 and didn’t look at me strangely when I order, “Irish, neat”…”Yeah , how do you mix that…?” That’s me running screaming for the door (far better than reaching across the bar and strangling the pimp-faced twit).
Been too far gone from anything resembling home to find a friend.
I am left with the dim reflection of a lonely old man in the monitor of his laptop…and the old fool just will not smile.
peace out pilgrims