i have recently joined the legions of adoring fans, the multitude of ardent admirers, the throngs of reveling readers of the marvelous Terry Pratchett.

here's a walking and talking repository of razor wit, who has bowled me full over with his insanely funny Discworld novels. honestly, you haven't caught me on one of his books yet, if not you would be throwing worried glances in my direction as the hysterics overcome me, possibly checking me in to a mental health institution if i was in a particularly good mood to begin with.

he phrases the most mundane of sentences in a brilliant way, more like that of a corkscrew or even a lunatic scribbling mess that a woowoo (i.e. mental patient) produces with some floor and a chalk. out of the totally berserk clauses and paragraphs, he chucks guffaw-inducing imagery and metaphors at you like a knife-thrower with a grudge.

then comes the thorough and amazing detailing and plumping up of the imaginary territory of Discworld, held up by Great A'Tuin the Great Sky Turtle, what more can i say? Discworld and its various quirks are mapped out intricately in the novels, and pervading many of them are the issues dealt with in any civilisation, modern or prehistoric.

he comes up with the most wacky characters and plots, and in many novels the lives of the many characters overlap. reading a book about the witches can bring you to a scene involving Commander Vimes or the Librarian of the Unseen University in Ankh-Morpork, who incidentally happens to be an orang-utan.

so heed the call to laugh your brain cells to death, and read the phenomena that is Discworld.

sometimes you leave a person alone for just a second, and the next time you turn back he or she is a totally different personality. i, not particularly investing my belief in all that jazz about being in constant motion in life and how one should adapt flexibly to changes in the grand scheme of things, absolutely detest such occurences. one day you could hang out and chat easily with the person, and the next you feel awkward just approaching the person, not knowing what to say, how to act. even making eye contact feels as painful as running a marathon with a sprained ankle and a torn knee ligament.

and worse is seeing them make new friends, friends that they have so much fun with when you aren't there. seeing the many photos on facebook of their escapades and outings certainly leaves me feeling more than a little sore. why couldn't the person call me out instead? he/she would have been the first person to invite me on any outing, any shopping trip, any dinner or lunch, any movie, and yet now the person barely even corresponds with me. no messages or emails, random house calls.

puzzling is that inertia still counts a tad, the ex-friend remembers your birthday, writes messages in the same style as before, lots of 'love's and 'miss-you's that are only a formality, only a hollow spectre of what was. this only serves to instil a creeping doubt, whether the person really does wish for your company, when honestly, it's a far shot.

don't you really hate life's little quirks sometimes? some days you feel that all you ever encounter is loneliness, disappointment and the chill of longing that sucks you into a gloomy mood. as much as it sounds like a corny pop song or a particularly gruesome poem, that's how it really is, isn't it?

well in cases like these there's only the option of sucking it in and sticking it out, as is with most other situations in life. nothing's fair in this world innit? unless you count the unanimous unfair treatment everyone gets, which makes us all equally miserable and singly disparaging.

so all i can do is find other pastures to graze, other fights to pick. if only i could say that this stems from my unwavering determination in life, my supreme strength of mind and will to survive. in truth it probably comes from the ugly shrivelled part of my mind where hope dares not to tread. this is resignation, the knowledge that things have changed irrevocably with the person and can never be salvaged again, a complete lack of belief that anything will get better, that steers me in another direction.

ah well, so life's a b*tch? sure looks like it.