“How are you?” is such a tough question to answer. “Well, I’m not a wealthy celebrity, and I’m not currently on fire. I’m somewhere between those two things.”
It’s amazing how much you have to lie to be considered a nice person.
Doing little things to keep my life on track? It’s literally ALL I do. My gravestone will read: “Here lies Tom. He ran some errands.”
On his way up, how many people do you think refused to talk shit about Hitler? “Look, he’s always been nice to me.”
Sometimes the trolls are right.
There’s nothing worse than an “un-fun” person who mistakenly believes they are “fun”.
I don’t have any phobias. Just one generalized terror: the fear of dying, and everyone who ever knew me, or knew of me, also dying. Sadly, that’s going to happen. So my worst fear is guaranteed to come to pass. Few other fears are like that. If you’re afraid of snakes, you can avoid them: live in a northern climate, don’t go to any zoos, and you’re good. Fear of death? You’ll have to deal with it, sooner or later.