Sadness

It's not very often that interesting things happen on a bus, especially if you're trying to avoid those stupid jerks who try to feel you up. Today, though, I happened to be sitting next to an elderly man at the back of the bus, and he began to ask me stuff like what I was doing and whether my ears were pierced or if I was wearing clip-ons. Point being, at first I was wary and gave him monosyllabic replies, but then he asked if I believed in numerology and began to tell me stuff about myself. Me being fascinated by this sort of thing and all, I began to pay attention and everything, and he said some really interesting stuff. Sadly, it was cut short because I had to get off. He gave me his cellphone number, and now my curiosity is piqued. I'm dying to know what else he has to say, but the safety issue is a big problem. Which brings me to what I was thinking about on the way home. For some reason, I decided not to waste my energy arguing with the stupid auto guys, and walk home from the bus-stop. How that saved me energy is still a mystery. I came home ravenous and polished off my (rather late) lunch. (People underestimate my appetite!) So, anyway, while I was walking, I began to think, and I wondered what the guy was getting out of making (free) predictions to random people on buses, and how he could possibly be taking advantage or something. And then it struck me that, for whatever reason, I cannot accept happiness. I always look for the catch. Either that, or I enjoy it, all the while waiting for the axe to fall, or sometimes for the ground to give way beneath my feet. I wonder if that's just because of what's happened in the past, or whether it's plain old human nature. Hmm. One of life's big questions.