Exactly how many

What if you had a magic something that could answer to all of you questions? Could be a magic ball, a magic pair of underwear, a magic toast, doesn’t matter. What would you ask? Besides all the important stuff I would ask the most random questions ever, I was thinking about this today, the rules are: you have unlimited questions and the answers are either numbers or yes and no, and of course it has to be something that is can actually know.  I would ask a ton of times the most random questions ever, “how many people are pooping right now in the entire world?”, “how many tomato seeds exist in my salad?”, “is my wallet/keys/purse/phones in this house?”, “did anyone noticed that I went out with my grandmothers nightgown?”, “how many people laughed at me instead of with me?”, “was it real?”, “Will my parrot ever stop biting me?”. And then you have the practical questions, the everyday life questions “Is this jackass telling the truth?”, “is the file I need in my computer?, “am I forgetting something?”, “is this cleavage too much?”, you get it. No more wondering, I could live without wondering about this trivial questions, but most of all I think it would be the best thing ever, you would always have new things to ask and then you would be the unbearable person who knows everything. Beautiful

If you could know exactly how many times you would still fall in love, would you do it? Would you like to know? Is this a similar question to the famous “would you like to know when you are going to die?”. Do we regard the mystery of love the same as we do death?

I think, given the choice I would like to know. I can live without the mystery, I sometimes reed the end of books, I only read it after I create a bond with the characters, I care about them, and knowing what is going to happen gives me time to process it. I always need time for that, I am not one to make rash anything, decisions, judgments, statements. I think it’s just because I hate regrets, I hate that feeling that I did something wrong and that I can’t take it back. This is beyond the point.

I would like to know what’s the ending to my book, not specifics, but in general strokes. Will I ever live in a house filled with cats, or will I die a horrible painful death while young, or something else, nobody knows. A part of your future is your responsibility, but it can’t be 100% you, that will drive you crazy. If 100% of your future is your responsibility then, all the special shit that happens to you is also your fault, as well as all the shit that doesn’t happen to you. You and I are not 100% responsible for our future, I am still crunching the numbers to see exactly how much are we to blame for it, so I will get back to you on that one.

I wouldn’t like to know when I will die though. When you know that you start counting down, I never want to count my days down to zero, I want to add them not subtract them. I feel like moving. I feel like disappearing, Houdini is gone but not forgotten.