Over the last week I've been flitting between two thoughts, constantly. My mind switches from one to the other between different days.
I'm supposed to be here.
I'm not supposed to be here.
I'm supposed to be here because I'm with the man I love, in a job I enjoy despite all my whinging, seeing new things and meeting new people, expanding my horizons very very slowly.
I'm not supposed to be here because all my family is sitting in Knysna today, eating chocolate and enjoying each other's company.
I'm supposed to be here because I'm such a brat at family occassions that I insulate myself and don't appreciate the time spent with my loved ones as I should.
I guess that settles it then.
This weekend it feels like I'm the only person on the internet.
Except for Tony Pierce - he reports on a blogger who killed a little girl.
Do you ever feel like the writing style on the last blog you looked at before starting your own blog post filters into your own writing? I've often toyed with the idea of writing posts themed along the writing styles of the various blogs I read, have never actually gone through with it though because it could turn out offensive, and although popular opinion states that all art is theft of other art I couldn't do justice to most of the bloggers I read.
This is a 
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