New Year and new questions. Seeing how I remain single, that alone raises several. How, when, who? But I still lead a good life, so such worries remain just worries rather than obsessions or troubling depressions, like I can observe in news. I do want a cat though, to keep me company, and keep me from becoming too lonely on the gray days. But cats are living things too, and as of yet I'm not sure if I should take care of one. Knowing myself, I will hate being tied down to the apartment too much. But then again, who knows? Really? Which brings me to a topic I wondered a lot about the other day. Someone told me, Your former girlfriends are all a bit weird, what's up with you and strange women that end up hurting you? And I thought about this, long and well. I have not given the answer, but I think I came up with it in my head. I do not see a female fit to be a companion in life out of how strange she is, truly, such a thing is somewhat suicidal in the end. Neither do I wish to get hurt, I certainly hope at least. Yet still again I find myself in the situation where I do something to someone and ends up getting mindboggled in the end, again. And it has indeed to do with my very person, as it seems the non-strange part of the opposite sex detest me. I suppose I am the oddity for the rest of the world to point and giggle at while they continue leading their lives of what is seen, by me, as something somewhat boring. Why spend a lot of time lying about everything and everyone to each other when all you have to do is tell the truth? Well, obviously it's because nobody wants to hear the truth. I hear this all of the time as I'm told to shut up and stop telling the stories of my life; but why I could never fathom. They happened after all, I was there, and most of them aren't really about me doing anything wrong; they usually encompass that parts of my life where I get the privilege to witness something completely absurd and, yet again fully in my opinion, somewhat hilarious. If a story of a thing that has happened has to be lied about, why did that story happen in the first place? Why lie about something that could bring truth? What are we to learn if all the great stories are left untold by people too morally upstrung to accept that they did in fact happen? Maybe man is happier left unknowing, but certainly he is not left smarter, unless again the pursuit of happiness is the same as being smart....
And having said all this I would like to point out that I do not indeed agree fully with that statement given, not nearly all have been bad for me, or even remotely close.
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