Pieces
A fragile mind is always teetering on the very edge of madness.
Today, my new colleague of barely a month or so made an observation about me that hasn't been made in awhile. Perhaps it is true, gay men are more astute after all:
You're too nice. You're a doormat.
I suppose it's true.
Despite my layers of cynicism...
I WOULD LIKE to be proven wrong once in awhile.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take a person's statements at face value.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to trust someone so completely, I could be spared the worry of being lied to, betrayed and backstabbed.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to be taken for who I am, and not have to worry about being compared with someone and found lacking.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take someone just as s/he is without worrying about ulterior motives.
But that's not how it works, isn't it?
A young wise friend of mine once said: there's no such thing as true altruism in this world.
And oh! What a jaded thing to say from one so young. But as time goes by, I'm more and more tempted to just, one fine day, pack up everything I have, go into a jungle up in the mountains, and never be seen again.
Because at times, animals make better company than people, no matter how fascinating people can be.
They lack that self-absorbed egocentricism that people have, and which I have had frightening brushes with, in the not-too-distant past. It makes me wonder, at times, what I've done in a past life (if that's your kinda thing) to be such a magnet for people who ultimately end up using me as a psychological/emotional/mental bedrock. And when they think they're about done, they prepare to toss you like a ragdoll.
Thxbai.
After all, what does one do with a well that has run dry?
There's a fine line between fear and awareness.
There's a fine line between genius and madness.
There's a fine line between melancholy and depression.
There's a fine line between confidence and pride.
There's a fine line between solitude and loneliness.
There's a fine line between love and hate.
There's a fine line between life and death.
Thank you for the catharsis.
Randomness.
Today, my new colleague of barely a month or so made an observation about me that hasn't been made in awhile. Perhaps it is true, gay men are more astute after all:
You're too nice. You're a doormat.
I suppose it's true.
Despite my layers of cynicism...
I WOULD LIKE to be proven wrong once in awhile.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take a person's statements at face value.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to trust someone so completely, I could be spared the worry of being lied to, betrayed and backstabbed.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to be taken for who I am, and not have to worry about being compared with someone and found lacking.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take someone just as s/he is without worrying about ulterior motives.
But that's not how it works, isn't it?
A young wise friend of mine once said: there's no such thing as true altruism in this world.
And oh! What a jaded thing to say from one so young. But as time goes by, I'm more and more tempted to just, one fine day, pack up everything I have, go into a jungle up in the mountains, and never be seen again.
Because at times, animals make better company than people, no matter how fascinating people can be.
They lack that self-absorbed egocentricism that people have, and which I have had frightening brushes with, in the not-too-distant past. It makes me wonder, at times, what I've done in a past life (if that's your kinda thing) to be such a magnet for people who ultimately end up using me as a psychological/emotional/mental bedrock. And when they think they're about done, they prepare to toss you like a ragdoll.
Thxbai.
After all, what does one do with a well that has run dry?
There's a fine line between fear and awareness.
There's a fine line between genius and madness.
There's a fine line between melancholy and depression.
There's a fine line between confidence and pride.
There's a fine line between solitude and loneliness.
There's a fine line between love and hate.
There's a fine line between life and death.
Thank you for the catharsis.
Randomness.
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