You know that scene in a movie when the girl has invited the guy up to her apartment and they’re both acting all casual while the coffee is being made and then the guy casually puts on some music and they flirtatiously start slow dancing and you’ve watched this scene over and over again various other times before and you know how it goes? And usually you love this scene in the movie and this scene is the reason you search for lists of romantic comedies that came out in a certain year and download them and sit back and watch one. I was watching one of those on tv just now. And I got up off that couch. And I walked away.
Senile. Someone called me that recently. So I thought about it. And looked it up. What I usually do when in doubt. And thought about it some more.
It’s just that people get married. And have kids. And the kids grow up. And they get married or move away. And there you are, on your own, old, having done what your parents did before you and maybe a bit more, and you realize that after all that, you’re just going to die, and you have nothing much to do except hang around and wait for it. Sure you’ve had good times and sure you may even have done some things to change the world and perhaps make it in some way a better place for those inhabiting it. But so what. All those others are going to die too. At some point. What’s the point?
And what about feelings? Those feelings you don’t want to contaminate by trying to put into words like you did before. All those moments that make life worth living even if it just ends in death. What about that heart that’s beating inside of your chest even as you read this right now? That lump of odd-shaped flesh that’s pumping blood in there like your life depends on it. That chunk of flesh you rarely think about in that way. Nor think about at all.
No one’s special. We think we’re different, but really, we just look different. No one wants to be hated, no one thinks trust is not important. Basically all of us are in a constant where we try to match ourselves up to the stereotype of the perfect man or the perfect woman. And we all think we are pretty much there. And what we think, we are. Which brings it down to the fact that no one is special. We all are.
I read a nice article today about how to not give a fuck what others think. I think you should read it too if you have some time to spare: http://thenextweb.com/lifehacks/2014/01/27/stop-giving-f-people-think/#!uaVI5
And we don’t always do, do we, have time to spare. And most times it’s a good thing. Coz when you do, you stop, look around, and wonder what all this is all about anyway. 
Psychodoodle 