Irony Impaired

Everything that could go wrong personally and professionally, already has. Everyday, just when I think, it's less bad today, let's clean up yesterday's mess, a new mess happens. It's gotten to a point where I'm just wondering what kind of new mess is going to happen tomorrow. Or whether an old kind of mess is going to repeat itself.

Regardless, this morning when I was buying petrol in a petrol station, I felt like I was the moving subject in a painting.

Sun wasn't even up yet. Cold, canned coffee in hand. Gorgeous car gone months unwashed. Fingerprints all over the rims from the constant tyre pressure checks. Equally unkempt, fat, balding owner sipping the cold coffee leaning by the driver's side. Fuel pumping on the opposite side left untended. Window down and driver side door open. Black Sabbath's "Dirty Women" blaring from the radio because only the engine was shut and not the electronics.

That image hit me with a sudden realisation of the fact that I'm completely alone and no one was about to help solve any of these problems. For reasons I can probably never understand, I also realised that my existence never really meant anything to anyone and I didn't feel bad about it at all.

It was just pure content and resignation to the fact that I was alone.