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WHY?
Am I sitting here writing in the early hours when I should be asleep? Why do I still want a cigarette, when I know they will kill me? Why do my efforts at getting fitter end up with getting heavier? Why can’t I express myself artistically? Why can’t I sing, or play something, or dance? Why can’t I act! Why have I spent most of my life trying to act like a man, and failed at that, everyone thought I was effeminate? Why am I now trying to be like a woman and failing because I sound and look like a man! Why did I leave my family and start on this stupid journey anyway? Why is everything I do seem to be doomed to fail? Why have I been in debt of some sort for the last thirty years? Why am I here at all? Why do others have friends and I have acquaintances? Why can’t I have blind faith in something up there that is responsible for all this? Why do I feel as though nothing is worth it? Why can’t I find a point to my existence? Why does no one else question the reason for being? Why me? Why bother...
