Tempus Fugit

I think I am going to grow old and die alone…. with my dogs….who will nibble at my feet to keep themselves alive after I die alone in my house and am not discovered for weeks and weeks until the neighbours can’t stand the smell. Longer if it’s in the middle of winter.

There are a number of things that are keeping me single. Namedly, cyniscism, principles, laziness, apathy…. I could go on.

Then there’s the whole….friendship angle. It’s a chicken or the egg situation….do you become friends before you get together with someone, or do you become friends as a result of it.

And if you do become friends and then get together….what happens after that? What happens if you are incompatible….then the friendship is fucked. I’ve seen that happen alllllll too frequently (to myself and others).

Would I rather be together with someone and have no friends…or be single and have lots of friends…

Curses life is too difficult. But then if it wasn’t, I guess it would be dull.

Quixotic. That’s what I am. When I’m not being melodramatic and negative. And I’m a vexation to my soul.

Which is why I am doomed to be single. The one who leaves alone. The third, fifth, seventh, ninth wheel…… (with perhaps the exception of the occasional threesome…. I could be so lucky).

Life was so much simpler when you could just close your eyes and it would all disappear. These days, you open your eyes again…and it’s still there…

I wish I could tell that voice (which voice?)…that one….(oh you mean this one?)….yes that one…one of many voices in my head….my ‘id’… I wish I could tell it to shut the fuck up. Listen to my superego not my id for a change. Shut off the left brain – the analytical calculating self-preserving brain.

Away begone with you left brain. Okay so I might be then a half-wit, but at least one who throws caution to the wind and does what he pleases. Narcissism here we come.

There is a great latin saying…. Memento mori….remember your own mortality. Which also translates to ….remember to die. Interestingly enough we seem to be so superficially caught up with what people will think about us when we’re dead, that we forget to live. Or so it seems. Maybe I am just too ignorant to realise otherwise.

Now see here… look what I’ve gone and one…. been self deprecating and negative. It’s such an unbecoming look. So not the fashion these days. Dammit I was going for tortured artist and I can’t even pull that off…..**thought deleted here…SUJ**

…. My live is one big Avenue Q …. and at the moment… “it sucks to be me..”….

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quixotic – Not sensible about practical matters; unrealistic; Caught up in the romance of noble deeds and the pursuit of unreachable goals; idealistic without regard to practicality.

vexation – A source of irritation or annoyance.