1.13am and i'm still awake, tossing and turning in my bed as I have been for the past few weeks.
mind full of thoughts as I subconciously go through [yet again] the story of the book that I just [re]read. another cheap, trashy novel, chockful of hope and dreams. same old story; girl has a chain of unsuccessful relationships, girl moves away due to family commitments, girl meets guy, girl falls in love with guy, guy unknowingly falls in love with girl's charm/smile/witty sense of humour/upbeat outlook to life/strength in dealing with problems/ability to make him laugh, guy reveals he is engaged, couple break up, guy comes back when he realises that girl is the one he loves, girl forgives guy...and they live happily ever after.
funny how they never show the next chapter.
that got me thinking, these books and their plot, however predictable, all with different twists, still almost always end in the same way; happily ever after. Why do we, as consumers, pay to read the same stuff, to know the same ending?
i guess, in the struggle to get through life, all we want and wish for, is to find happiness. No one wants to die alone and lonely. Not me, at least.
I've spent my life in search for my own happiness. I've gone through a huge array of men, from all walks of life, all ages, all shapes and sizes. So far all i've gotten are heartbreaks, shedded tears, and a whole load of shit stories that I entertain my friends with. Maybe its time to see what I've been doing wrong, instead of blaming them for being wrong.[although some really, REALLY deserve it]
Or maybe i've been going out with all the Mr.Wrongs.
But then again, maybe I'm the one that has the problem.
Am I the cause of my own string of failed relationships?
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