With regards to most things, I am, actually, a very simple person. This is mostly because I spend the majority of my time [over]analyzing much of what goes in my life and other people’s reaction to it. And mine as well. Actually, now that I think about it, probably more mine than others. But thats more or less my professional life. That’s not the point though, though the title would suggest, sorta, that it is.
I’ve really wanted to post about the last week or so. But I’ve been getting in my own way more or less lately, in a lot of ways actually. You see, I actually only have about 4 real problems in life. The major three are the fact that I can’t close, I don’t open, and that I probably dislike myself more than any other normal person shows. The fourth one is tricky. Most people would probably say that I don’t talk about what’s wrong with me, or whats bothering me. I would like to, once and for all, bury this half-truth. The problem I have is talking about why something bothers me1.
I have no problem talking about what’s wrong with me. I actually do it all the time. Another aspect of this is that I don’t, normally, say that something bothered/bothers/is bothering me. There are a lot of reason for this, and actually none of them are probably good at all. Then again, there are seldom any good reasons for doing something that’s knowingly bothersome (at the least, possibly hurtful though) so at least I’m normal in that respect.
Though none of this is actually news to the other two people that actually read this, I figured I’d say something at least.
Normal posting to resume by Saturday. I think.
I have a feeling that this “why” word might become a motif. Though, actually, I’m not sure if a) I’ll ever actually post this and b) if I’ll ever get around finishing this motif that I have half-planed. back