I don't know how I end up like this.

I can't do it anymore. I'm not the man I used to be. I can't go for cheap thrills anymore because frankly, I don't enjoy it anymore. Everything seems useless. This life seems so useless. And the emptiness I feel is too much some times. Though I am happy with work and friends, but there's something missing. I don't know what it is.

Get this. I'm reading this book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and it's about this "pathetic" guy who falls out of love with this woman, and spends the next 50 years sleeping around with a lot of other women, kononnya, to numb his feelings- but of course he enjoys it. Then this woman becomes available when her husband, whom she loved tremendously, died. And this guy, this adulterous guy who looks for "quick love" almost every night, approaches said woman and declares his undying love once again.

Mind you, both the guy and woman are in their 70s now. And he goes and confesses to the woman: "I love you. My love never died,.." and all that. And the woman gets angry at the man.

In the end, in any situation, I suppose, we are all slaves to this emotion of love. No matter how hard we try to suppress it , be it through work, cynicism, or casual sex.

You get to a point where you get tired of it all. Yes, I am tired of it all. And I'm literally getting sick of it ( I was on the verge of a fever when I figured this out, yesterday).

I was staring at someone after we were locked in embrace. It was nice. As usual. But I realise I was staring at a stranger. There was something so so wrong about it all. I couldn't figure it out until it occured to me: "I don't know you."

I don't even know anything about you. What the hell am I doing with you? And drove home feeling so alone.

Arghh...