I was so fucking depressed that I called a friend for adult conversation.  He quickly pointed out that adults are over rated.  I told him my "its all about me" story.  He reminded me that people who throw that stone are really saying its all about them.  As we mused I recalled a time when I asked him to try and paint his emotion.  He said, "Soon as I figure out how to paint numbess."  I told him tonight, " Yeah, its kinda like trying to write it." 

Suddenly we fit numbness into another equasion.  It is when it becomes more important to "me".  I could write it.  He could paint it.  Then there is always that.  I could write that, and he, paint that.  Suddenly we saw the humor in life without the use of I, me or myself.

Can one write personally of personal things without referring to himself or herself?  Hm.  'They thought about It all day and came to an assumption about All.  They did It and All That meant was His destiny choked All That and Some of This. 

I suppose talking about that, this, all that, and it can be fun to practice, but I'll do the living in My life and I matter to Me because when I'm done in life, I'll respect Myself ( I, 'yes i did say I',hope.)

So my friend and I revisited the adult thing because it hit me how totally adult like I have become in such a short time.   He said, "Don't be an adult.  It leads to depression."  

Suddenly it was about me again.  I am an adult.