We’ll never be done seeking the approval of others. We’re approval junkies. We need it. It’s the motivation behind pretty much everything we do.
There is nothing to be learnt from all these experiences. Contrary to popular belief, not every experience teaches you something. Some are just there, some things just happen. It’s not like how they say in books and films, either you beat yourself up about it, or you rise up and learn from it, no.
Sometimes you’re not obliged to do anything. What doesn’t change is that people will always expect you to do something. People will always have expectations and breaking these expectations will open your eyes to a whole new world of humanity.
Fortunate for us. the word ‘Humanity’ is still being used in a positive context. I don’t know for how long more, but one can always hope.
Things happen, people walk away. Too many too soon, I’ve lost faith. Faith in myself, faith in promises and faith in humanity as a whole. I’m imploding on the inside. Everything’s so warped and compressed on the inside. Nothing gets out. I can’t write anything because of these feelings I have trapped inside.
Taking my medicine seems like a good option, but why numb? My sole intent is to try to feel pain again, because with all these things happening, the closest to feeling alive would be some pain. Love me, hate me, I don’t care. Hurt me.
Walking away, well, that’s indifference. It doesn’t exactly cause hurt.
I’m tired. Tired of watching the same things happen over and over again, tired of routine, tired of certainty. I need some uncertainty. I need to see less, I need to know less.
I need to be more ignorant. I need to be more oblivious.
It feels like I’m always caught in a rut between doing what’s right, and doing what’s easy. Why is this burden placed on me, to do what’s right, when the world never gives you a second chance. School let’s you make mistakes, the world doesn’t.
They shut their doors in my face because they’ve lost faith in me. I know I could do better, I know I can make it work, but second chances are not a thing of today. We’re too busy, too safe. Everything’s a calculated risk. Let’s not have anymore risk than we need. Let’s stay within boundaries.
Let’s stay safe. Let’s never trust.
You say this yet the next minute you’re swayed by charmed words and sugar coated promises. Know this, boy, girl, there are no second chances in life. It’s a lie.
Lies serve to create.
So they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
I keep wishing I wasn’t like this. That I didn’t see these things. I must have spent too much time being quiet when I was younger. Watching people, studying people. There is and always will be a part of me wishing that people, including myself, aren’t so predictable.
Whatever happened to illogical choices. Whatever happened to ‘I’m only human’ . Making mistakes.
I wish we weren’t so safe with our choices. I wish we’d have less education and more walking.
Why does life have to be a moral decision? Why do we have to choose either to be good, or bad? We’re all a composition of both. It’s what the world catches you doing that defines you?
Oh he’s a bad person, you say about the man on the front page of the newspaper, the one who abused his child. You pass judgment on this stranger, probably one you’d never meet, because a photographer takes a photo, a writer writes about the story, the judge passes the sentence.
You deem fit to judge. You say the law is about justice, about fairness. No. It’s about luck, most of the time.
It used to be that everything happened for a reason. It used to be that everyone had a destiny, or some form of meaning in life. Not today.
We’re lost, all of us. We think we know our way. We think we know what we’re here to do, to achieve. All we have is the scars of the past. The needs embedded in our DNA. The need to impress, the need to achieve, the need to nurture our ego, the greed the lust the hunger the thirst.
The need to make a mark. The need to justify our existence. Glory, glory.
And the solution is not as simple as getting rid of these needs. It gets worse when the only thing you care about, is how you don’t care about anything anymore.
It’s not because of the people walking away. It’s not because of rejection. It’s not because of misunderstandings and animosity. It’s about growing. I’m too old, too cynical, on the inside.
Maybe I just need a surprise. Maybe you need one too.
Maybe that’s why when we watch the news, when we buy the morning paper, no matter how much you fancy yourself a good person, one with morals and sympathy for others, a part of you wishes for something to read about, something to think about, someone to pity, someone to feel sad for.
A natural disaster, an accident, a crime.
We’re so sedated and our biggest mistake is thinking we’re alive. Our only hope lies within the subconscious. Maybe that’s why we’re subtly driven towards intoxication. Getting the conscious mind out of the way, getting ‘high’, in hopes of being able to see and feel a sense of what’s real. To feel alive.
Such irony. Seeking to actively sedate so we may feel alive.
But as it is, we’re only human.
