After one year of living on my own, I’ve finally realized that my interests are few. They are limited to food, the internet, music, and, an occasional TV show or movie (aka once per week or quarter.)
I used to love reading books. I still do. But sometimes, my eyes hurt. Or I’m just too tired.
I used to like shopping, but now that I’m older (aka 30), I realize I’m more of a dress-to-live type, rather than a live-to-dress kind of person.
I like boys, but not that much, I guess. Someone asked me if I was a lesbian, and I directly refuted that. It’s not that I have anything against them, but I’m fairly certain that I like men. Also, single = not a bad thing. And single does not = desperate. (The asker was 22.)
I like being alone. I enjoy peace and quiet.
I may regret my choices in the future. I don’t know. I hope not.