Messy

Sometimes I look at myself as the only person in the world incapable of finding her “significant other” and I then think “There must be something deeply wrong with me-wrong beyond the point of fixing” or “I guess I’m unworthy of a soulmate” or something of the sort-plausible enough explanations why I fail at something everybody else seems to be successful at. And some other times I think that maybe not every couple I meet has that special thing that makes life magical, that it is very possible that some people, even most people end up with someone not because he/she is “The One” but simply to escape singlehood which is apparently reckoned as much worse than being with the wrong person. Umm, thanks but no; thanks.

Is it really that way? I can not tell-there’s no way for me to know. Maybe it’s just easier for me to assume that most people get together for the sake of convenience-a merciful glass of delusion to help me swallow the bitter pill of truth. I’ll never know the truth-one of the reasons to want “never” to end sooner.

Man, this is just not right-to think that way, at my age! The way I feel…as if I’m back in high school-only worse, because back then I believed to the point of unconditional certainty that my life would work-somehow and, of course, in the best way possible. I mean, there was no other option apart from “and they lived happily ever after”. And now the only thing I’m certain about is that it’s the only option that will never work for me. Splendid.

Ah, it does help to spit my guts out. Sure, it helps just a bit and just for awhile but it’s not like I’m in a position to be picky. It feels good to be free to embarrass myself unlimitedly by saying whatever is on my derailed mind. Who’s to care anyway? One of the few privileges of being single.