Youthful at the age of Twenty-Twenty-Four

Posted: 14 December 2011 in life
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44Today I hit the age of Twenty-Twenty-Four, or 44 in new money. Since the 43rd birthday I have been to hell and back. At the close of 2010 my immediate future in 2011 was set on a very different path to the one that I eventually journeyed along.

How could I have foreseen my life falling apart in the blink of eye? A mental breakdown? Months of counselling to help me pull my life out of the abyss? Continuing thoughts of suicide on an almost daily basis?

That was not the plan at all…

A shattered existence is slowing being pulled together with the assistance of friends from across the globe. From England to New Zealand, Wales to Canada, USA to France, I have experienced incredible support in groping my way out of darkness. Never, ever, presume that Twitter is only there for bitching. It’s also a massive support network when you use the correct hashtags.

The darkness that has engulfed my life rippled outward from an act of cowardice from a parasitic manipulator will ultimately have a reckoning. As Shakespeare put it:

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head

I see so many people at the age of 44 who are bald, overweight, drink and smoke too much. And that’s just the women…I count myself very fortunate that I continue to be mistaken for someone a decade younger than my actual years. It’s a minor source of pride that I can still pull that off despite the mental and physical toll thrust upon my body over recent months. Even able to pull off sexual conjunctions with ladies nearly two decades younger and not have a heart attack.

It’s off to a hotel tomorrow evening with a blonde and a redhead. Such a hard life on occasions…

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