But (as usual, when I have a glass or two of champagne) I am led to think about the sorrow of life. We have this friend, Julie. Her children were at school with ours. We met at kinder, primary school dos, high school, and after, at the supermarket, shops, going for a walk. She was always such a happy laughing joyous person. She wasn't a great beauty, but you didn't notice that, because her inside was filled with light. And then her husband left her. He wanted to "find himself". He "needed space". For a long time after that she looked physically ill, like someone with cancer or severe heart disease, She aged 20 years in a year. From being happy and convivial she became a recluse. She doesn't want to see ppl or talk to them.
Only young people (or therapists or counsellors) think that life is good and that being a good person will bring its own reward. She was a good person, and life kicked her in the teeth. And now she is desperately, unbearably unhappy.
God is so fucking good.
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