Bleurgh! I’ve been worrying about the ‘futility’ of it all tonight. I don’t know why but I blame Batman Begins. What is it all about? I was born, I am growing old and I will die. Does that matter? Does anything matter? Sorry no more questions. But I still feel it’s all futile. I am directionless and alone (and will probably remain so for the rest of my life). I’m not sure if I want to be young again, that’s all water under the bridge and is almost certainly tinted through rose coloured spectacles. Perhaps I want to feel how I think I felt when I was younger. I think I’m wallowing in self-pity and I don’t know how to stop