Irony

I was at Gardens yesterday chasing away blues, painting the town a shade of emo with the best company I could imagine.

I came home to an email about death and funerals from a blogfriend. It wasn't morbid or anything.

I got SHOCKED something from the past (too personal, won't blog here)

And by the some coincidence, because of the aforementioned shock, I rang the ex of 5 years and learnt of the passing of his grandfather which momentarily made me forget about my own problem and became somewhat of a consoling session.

Smelly, the thing about death is that it imputes the living more than the dead. The dead remain well ... dead. I'm sorry to hear about him and I know you loved him and perhaps at this point nobody can say anything to make you feel better. But if you need anything, I'm here for you.

These are the words I said because I felt like its the right thing to do.

These were the words that you should have said to me when my grandma passed away but you didn't. 1 year ago, I would have rushed to see you, to be there for you because I know how much it means, because I was always there for you. Was being the operative word.

But now. These are just words. Like all the things you've said that never materialised.

Regrets ... I try to make it a personal philosophy of mine not to have any. Because we move on.