The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy has always been a rescue for me whenever I have been sad, lonely and whenever I didn’t feel like dealing with the world. Reading it has always been like sitting next to a totally bizarre person in an airport waiting area, a person you encounter every time you travel through this particular airline. You’ve seen this particular man so many times and are so looking forward to running into him with his over-sized bag and his red pullover that the one time last October he wasn’t there; you stood in the boarding line crestfallen and strangely disappointed. And life felt a little off. It is the familiar insanity that keeps me safe from a little unknown craziness from my own.

This is what this book means to me. That strange man in a red pullover.

I read it when I need to phase out and music just won’t do. Drugs and Alcohol aren’t my thing. I love my life too much to cut myself or try attempting suicide. These things don’t interest me. But whenever limbo tightens it’s hands around my neck and it just ain’t fun anymore… this is the book I gotta read. It sometimes gets to a point where I stop and start to identify with Marvin, the depressed robot.
You know what else I do when I am sad, lonely and feeling absolutely pathetic?
I write on the walls of a ghost town.
My house is the purple one in the street of yellow.



Don’t Panic.

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