I feel very strongly about a lot of things: it often makes me think I hate people and things I actually know very little about.
How many times does a lie have to be told for us to start believing that it may contain some degree of truth?
I started liking more things on Twitter; I then started finding more things on Twitter to like. Liking things was good.
The old man has started to rant about leaving his closest family, about spending more time with his children. The children within earshot roll their eyes: they remember how he left them before.
Full disclosure: I am an incredibly angry person, but that does not mean that I hate. The two are too often conflated.
All certainty is a lie at this point. Only shouting loudly in the face of a loved one is acceptable now. It’s like deciding what to have for dinner at tea time, with a child shouting.
The Independent Group have been met with a mixture of celebration and contempt: a perfect name for a British theme pub if ever there was one.