I raise a frothy pint to you, professor Tolkien. May the path of your afterlife’s journey be paved only with grand adventures, hearty and full plates and cups, even heartier friends, and only the richest pipe-weed. And may that golden sun never set on the horizon you created and gave to us all from your mind’s eye, from that humble little path you set out on long ago, now extending infinitely onwards.

So tell me then, what do you know of sailing on an open sea, with your sights set squarely on whatever lies beyond a melting burnt-bronze sunset? What do you know of feeling utterly dwarfed and equally emboldened beneath the limitlessness of a clear blue sky, clouds white as snow-caps and light as feathers? What do you know of the pure magic and mystery of dreaming beneath the bittersweet melancholy of a twilight’s moon? What can you tell me of being blessed enough to have feasted your eyes upon the elegance and grace of sprawling, wind-swept valleys in the heart of a warm summer? What do you know of seeing the souls of the oldest and finest of friends at once reunited? Or of sharing a laughter so hearty and jubilant that it rattles way down deep in your bones?

Because I can tell you, lads and lasses, that I don’t know all too much... but at the very least, I do know this.

And so in this mad place, concerning those of us who have successfully managed to retain even just the smallest iota of authentic compassion and empathy, I think it’s time we start sticking together.

At this point, literally for the sake of pure survival and extended self-preservation. Because unfortunately, I’ve begun to realize that we’re officially becoming an endangered species.

Too many people have these incredibly deeply-rooted insecurities, and for whatever reason—maybe because they’ve been conditioned through negative experiences, maybe because they’re mortified of some wicked beast their brain has convinced them is lurking in wait on the opposite side of honesty, who knows—they seemingly don’t even care to take their state of stubborn denial(which eventually, though they will fight against it hard, will shatter into pieces all the same just as the glass castle it always was) straight on past the grave itself.

So let’s change the tune, eh? Who’s with me on this one?

*Cheers, all you beautiful people*