immortal

My wife and I are hitting that age where everyone around us seems to be experiencing some version of a midlife crisis. A few marriages have ended, some are floundering, and others are just drifting along in a coma-like stasis of school runs and Facebook statuses.
Here is the problem. You all seem to think self-published authors are bad writers, because bad writers are self-published. The thing is, bad writers are everywhere.
But then I thought, even if "Call Me Maybe" was my favorite song ever, and even if I believed that I would never tire of it, there would eventually come a point where I could no longer tolerate it. Then I started thinking about death.