Love is a pain in the ass
Half past midnight. Fuck. I started worrying again. I can’t admit that I can be the worrying type sometimes. I hate people who worry. They ruin all the spontaneous fun around themselves and then they want too much control in all situations.
When I worry I always start hungering for the road. Being on the go makes things easier in life. No need to settle down and establish deep down relationships where you expose yourself to someone who can hurt your feelings. No need to regret mistakes and feel shame when nobody knows you. More poise for the night, when you know you’ll be gone the next day. You can choose whatever; all decisions are in your hand. I see it as a better form of escaping that rewards you with adventure and new impressions.
I could probably go on forever and rant about my overanalysed life, but it’s most likely I’ve forgotten this by tomorrow. That’s how I work. Shit is emotional and then the next second it’s gone with the wind. Quoting Ferdinand von Schrubentauff (I have no idea who this guy is): I’m almost never serious, and I’m always too serious. Too deep, too shallow. Too sensitive, too cold hearted. I’m like a collection of paradoxes.