I really do like you sometimes.
Sometimes I feel that I can't really give five minutes for myself.
It's not that the constant hours spent on my Playstation education and my Internet commitments don't count, but after taking a step out and looking in, it feels that I'm incredibly swamped with whatever it is that I want to be swamped with that I've indirectly neglected my own need for a peace of mind every now and then. It doesn't help that the house is going to be reinstated as an old folk's home as of today; I can safely say that I've treasured almost every moment spent here alone (except for that time when the house smelled like urine one morning after a poker session that involved cigarettes and air-conditioning).
At times I despise company; yet at other times, I crave it. It's certainly selfish of me to assume that, at the proverbial snap of a finger, I could gather a group of people around myself to boost my self-esteem, and the sad part is, I can't.
To an extent, I avoid the very people that I want to see.
If alone, I go into malls and supermarkets hoping that I don't meet anybody I know, out of the sheer lumbering task of making small-talk and acting interested when all I really want to do is to sort out the groceries and pick up a game in the process.
The pang of distress that washes over me whenever I spot at someone I didn't really want to see is an unfettering declaration of my need for avoidance. I'd much rather see somebody on my own terms and conditions, as opposed to bumping into them awkwardly, with the obligatory exchange of pleasantries*.
Mind you, this only happens if I've intended to go alone in the first place. If I were in a group of friends, I'd be more than receptive to seeing you and being extremely cordial.
If only for the post-encounter activity of badmouthing you behind your back afterwards.
I'm the worst friend you could ever have, my...friend.
*(On a separate note, upon encountering people, I hate having to politely ask them what they're doing in that certain location because more times than not, it's pretty fucking obvious; and you may end up looking dafter than usual.)
It's not that the constant hours spent on my Playstation education and my Internet commitments don't count, but after taking a step out and looking in, it feels that I'm incredibly swamped with whatever it is that I want to be swamped with that I've indirectly neglected my own need for a peace of mind every now and then. It doesn't help that the house is going to be reinstated as an old folk's home as of today; I can safely say that I've treasured almost every moment spent here alone (except for that time when the house smelled like urine one morning after a poker session that involved cigarettes and air-conditioning).
At times I despise company; yet at other times, I crave it. It's certainly selfish of me to assume that, at the proverbial snap of a finger, I could gather a group of people around myself to boost my self-esteem, and the sad part is, I can't.
To an extent, I avoid the very people that I want to see.
If alone, I go into malls and supermarkets hoping that I don't meet anybody I know, out of the sheer lumbering task of making small-talk and acting interested when all I really want to do is to sort out the groceries and pick up a game in the process.
The pang of distress that washes over me whenever I spot at someone I didn't really want to see is an unfettering declaration of my need for avoidance. I'd much rather see somebody on my own terms and conditions, as opposed to bumping into them awkwardly, with the obligatory exchange of pleasantries*.
Mind you, this only happens if I've intended to go alone in the first place. If I were in a group of friends, I'd be more than receptive to seeing you and being extremely cordial.
If only for the post-encounter activity of badmouthing you behind your back afterwards.
I'm the worst friend you could ever have, my...friend.
*(On a separate note, upon encountering people, I hate having to politely ask them what they're doing in that certain location because more times than not, it's pretty fucking obvious; and you may end up looking dafter than usual.)
Labels: Musings
posted by funkyhippopotamus at
8:22:00 am
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