Weltschmerz

Literally translated, the above word means 'world sadness'. I don't speak German, don't start assuming I'm clever or anything, but the word was in a book I read. A novel, some contemporary reading, again, not a literary classic. Moving on.

Do you ever just get hit with the realisation that the world is full of sadness? I'm not even talking about earth-shattering losses--death, sick children, homeless people living on discarded take-aways, etc. I'm just talking about the little things. The things that, one at a time, don't mean much at all, but all together, make it feel like the world's crumbling around you.

It's a well-known fact that people who have been married for a while, are more likely to give each other a peck on the lips, than a full-on snog, when one comes in from work. That's not a tragedy--but it doesn't have to be that way. I've seen it be better than that, after 17 years of marriage. It can be done. But almost no one bothers.

Virgins. For the most part, they're shiny and sparkly and new, they look so fresh and clean you just have to put your grubby little hands on them, and then... once they've had a little taste of what they've been missing, they stop obsessing about love and longevity and happily-ever-after, and move on to obsessing about getting their leg over. Or maybe I just know a lot of 'nice' guys who are anything but.

Men. When you start to hang out with them, they're fun and everything is breezy and amusing and light, and soon enough, one of you gets cheesed off at the other, for wanting more than that. Or for not wanting more than that. Or for not even wondering if there's more than that. Or for the fact that you called them 'the perfect friend'.

I ask you (and I may've asked this one before, but go with me)... in what fucking universe is it an insult to be told you're a great, nay an awesome, nay, a stupendous, even a perfect, friend???

Finally. Women. You start off liking them, you start off thinking they're rather groovy and fun to hang out with, and before you know it, they've lied to you/stabbed you in the back/posted random fucking journal entries, detailing all your intimate moments together.

Nothing lasts. Nothing stays the same. Nothing stays good, is the point.

I've been crying off and on since Sunday morning, thinking about that very point.