Instalment Forty Eight

Good times roll. I think they are spheres. A bubble of joy, rolling around. Joy rolling from your family to you. From you to your friends. Good times are on the move. Good times scatter fast, they are like marbles I guess. If you collect them up in your arms, squeeze them tight and try to hold on, the good times slip from your grasp and flee. They are fleeting.

I think problems are cubes. Cubes with sharp edges that give you paper cuts. Cubes with unbevelled corners waiting for shins to bash into them. Problems, like cubes, are more inclined to stay put. To stick around. Problems do not roll away. When you drop a problem it lands at your own feet. And if you do manage to move them, they don’t go far, just the distance of one square, the side of the cube. This could be why problems are so easy to shift onto other people. The problem still exists, it is simply now sitting in front of the person next to you. You did that to them so you feel guilty. A problem shared is not a problem halved. A problem shared is a burden doubled.