Thursday, December 16, 2010
I like to read books,to escape away,not from reality but rather from people.I've come across enough to get sick and tired of all the judging,and the inability to put up with me.I know,I'm temperamental,unpredictable and hard to handle.I've heard tons of people say that before giving up on trying to understand me.
Everyone stops trying to approach me when I start giving one word replies or sound the slightest bit off,ever so afraid to come near,thinking I'll explode onto them.That strange instinctive fear keeps them away,forever so observant of my behavior trying to notice when to be around me and when to stay away.It doesn't help that my unpredictable nature adds onto their fear even more as trying to notice any patterns on me is near impossible.
But noone believes that I won't blow up,noone takes it to believe that during those times,more than ever,I really need someone to just turn to.This lack of confidence to overcome their instinctive fear to approach me leaves me in solitude majority of the time.Eventually having to force myself to "cool down",I bottle up anything and everything that's bothering me inside,locked deep inside some twisted abyss.But it always accumulates,and it's destructive,though not to anyone else but rather to myself.Self destructive and consuming,like a slow process of death.
This process of bottling up is excruciatingly tiring and cumbersome,it takes alot of self will for one to lock away all their problems,their insecurities and fears without the help of another.As such in my case,I end up sleeping much,or spending most of my time reading books,or drawing,as a way to calm myself down,and relief myself from all the exhaustion of containing my own volatile emotions.
Sometimes I fear I've gotten too used to being alone due to a lack of close friends with whom I can pour everything out to.My erratic behavior keeps people away from trying to get close to me,and has made me lose many close friends who eventually gave up on trying to understand me.Everyone is just cautious of trying to get past the temperaments than to offer to help.But I know I can't help myself,I have met many people similar to me and have somewhat assist them in trying to find one way or another to spill all their thoughts,feelings and emotions that they had been hiding.Of cause,I cannot do the same with myself,and there is nobody who could handle me for me to lay it out to.
There are those who have gave the standard remarks "But maybe you're the one that's not making the effort to make friends".Well,it is a good response,however I realize I have both answered and proven that statement false.I have made much friends,the problem here is the inability to on the same wavelength,for a lack of better words.I have definitely made alot of efforts to make friends,people who I have come to understand and laugh with or talk with regularly.But because of the unpredictable complexity of my own uncontrolled emotions,most if not all can't fully understand most of me.Everyone knows a little here and there but that's it.No matter how much I try to make myself blatantly easy to read,everyone still fails at it.In the end the friendship goes one sided in a way,where I know many things about the person and understand them very well,while they know only a few little things about me,most of which comes from guessing and trying to make out from my behavior pattern.We are still friends,but the amount of how much we understand one another stands far apart,hence I could always be of use and help to my friend but none could in turn help me when I feel down.
Sometimes it just feels hopeless,like I'm going to be stuck having to deal with the troubles and bothers and all the complexities of this life myself.Like standing on a singe platform that's not big enough for any more than one.Like noone can ever understand the me that's true.There are times I feel like turning a deaf ear to everyone and everything.After all,I can't connect with anyone,why should I care about them?In fact,I doubt anyone would object to that,my lack of significance making it any different to noone.But I still do,I still bother about others,about friends who only I can seem to understand and not vice versa.I still go about bothering about everyone,bound by some meaningless hope.But I don't think too much of it if I could.I shouldn't have any reason to.
And if I were to bet my money on this,I would say that anyone who reads this wouldn't understand most of it,and would be lost soon after the first passage or so.
/End.