In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; It wearies me; you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, That I have much ado to know myself ~^~ Antonio's opening lines in The Merchant of Venice describe my sorrow perfectly: brooding, yet enigmatic. A true Libran, I am a man of contradictions: I can even contradict whatever I come up with, provided that I remember what I have said in the first place, considering that my propensity to forget is second to none. *hmmm* Well, I have a track record for saying the darnest things. The truth hurts, sometimes so much that people would rather listen to lies. Especially coming from me =P
My Interests
I'd like to meet:
Don't have a list for this. How about a list of those I don't want to meet?
