People
It never ceased to end this throng of people. All crashing into each other and wondering why life's little problems seemed so much larger when they were so concentrated. He released a puff of smoke from between his ever pursed lips and gazed down at them. This mass of humanity jostling for each other's attention and then regretting it once this had been achieved. It was often he who had to clean up the mess that humanity left and that was why he endeavoured to avoid it - them.
Perhaps he was cold-hearted, deep down. As much as he tried to convince certain people otherwise, he was in fact all he said, he had never been in love and he had no desire to be. From all he had witnessed, love meant a total loss of self and almost total destruction and he was not prepared for that. He would grow old and he would die, alone maybe, but that did not matter much. If he was to die alone, he would not grieve for those absent sons and daughters that he might have had. If he was left with a content life, with no promise of continuation by his children, then at least he was spared the agony of giving himself over completely to another.
He would rather be alone. Life was much easier when you spent it alone.