I've just read a horribly depressing article. It had a good ending, but it was depressing all the same. Here, *you* go read it. Who the hell came up with such a story! Jesus. The nerve of people today.
Anyway, while reading it, I realized that I'll never get into that situation in the article. Why? I owe it all to my uncanny inability to start / maintain / end a relationship. Yes, you read it right. Relationship-man I'm not. Maybe it's a feeling shared by a lot of other losers out there. I don't know. I want to not care, although at the moment, the bitterness is... well, bitter. MY CUP OF BITTERNESS OVERFLOWETH.
Also, the ending's kinda fairy tale-ish. Which would explain why some people I spoke to regarding that article ended up crying. How often does this happen? The only reason why this article touched people is because it's RARE. Or maybe even totally fictitious but hey, I like to keep an open mind about stuff. That doesn't change the fact that in reality, things don't work out like that. Marriages do break up. Divorces do happen. Nothing we can do about it cause people are generally assholes. The world deserves to end. Maybe that would give everyone a wake-up call just before we're all wiped out but hey, better late than never.
I guess the reason why I'm both pissed and depressed is because *I* might end up doing something like cheating on my wife and then divorcing her ( assuming there's actually marriage in the future for me ). To me, I am the perfect embodiment of human imperfection. Actually we all are hopelessly flawed ( thus justifying why this world should be destroyed ), but in my case, it's personal. I COULD DO THAT. I MEAN, I REALLY COULD. At least, I think I could. And the uncertainty is disturbing. It's a bit like, could I kidnap someone I really hate and spend the next six months slowly torturing the poor bastard to death? Or if some pretty girl started seducing me, will I give in to sinfully wild sex with her? It's one of those questions. I don't really know if I could do it or not. And not knowing, while not exactly something necessary until I can't live without finding out, is a bit of thorn at the edge of my consciousness.