The older I get, the less I listen to people. Most are so full of themselves, and I grow less patient with each passing year.

Now, I’m just as full of myself as the rest, but I don’t burden others with the menial comings-and-goings in my life, and generally, no one asks me anything because they’re too busy talking about themselves. I mostly write out my feelings, so you may opt-in if you so choose.

To those who ask, I really appreciate it. I don’t particularly like talking about myself, or talking in general, but it shows consideration, something I find myself craving more and more.

I’m not really bitter about it; it seems to simply be a Fact of Life. I just used to be able to listen better, and perhaps, care more. I want to care, I really do, but sometimes it’s difficult for me to ignore the fact that we all have a certain amount of control over our lives that we just don’t exert, or refuse to exert. Sometimes I just want to scream, “OWN UP!”

On a side note, I’m truly amazed that a cat of Mancat’s girth is still so flexible. Gives me hope for myself.