Fruity.

A vicious cycle over another. This is the story of us sorry human beings. God defines us, or rather, we define ourselves. Let’s not blame God for no reason. I take that back.

We define ourselves, and people react to us. What’s funny is that most of us think we have the freedom to express ourselves in whatever way we please. The way we dress, the choices we make, the words we speak. Some choose to dress outrageous, some choose to get tattoos and piercings, some choose to adopt accents.

Truth of the matter is, true expression doesn’t come consciously.

It comes subconsciously. And certain people, namely myself, are just a little more eccentric.

People don’t understand. I doubt there’s a single other human being out there who truly understands me, without judging me. Many say they do, but I’ll never know for sure, not yet. And what about you? How many people can honestly say they have people who really understand them, really.

We fear what we do not understand, and fear slowly transforms into aggression and belligerence. We do so many things to show that aggression. The flaws of us imperfect beings, trying so hard to drown as quickly. Oh how embarassing. No worry, we’re not losing the fight. The fight’s losing us.

People start being condescending. People start mocking you, laughing at the choices you make. They start questioning your every move, like you’re their only real source of entertainment in this world of repetition and routine.

They curse and swear. They spit and hit. They hate you for who you’re not, and who they think you are, based solely on their own interpretations.

Or maybe it’s just expectations. Of people, of oneself, of everything else.

And which wise man said we’re like pawns on a chessboard? Times have changed. We’re sinking deeper and deeper and few realize the joys of staying in the shallow waters.

As I’ve always said, society, wherever you go, be it conventions and exhibitions, or parties with a lot of booze and cigarettes, people don’t change. People always have something to prove, they involve you in their ‘intellectual’ conversations, their ‘I’m better than you’ tendencies.

They want to prove, or rather, seemingly express how ‘deep’ they are. I take pride in being shallow.

An ancient need.

I’ve come to realize the only times I’m able to write so freely is either when I’m very happy, or when I’m really down. The latter, in this case. I guess then, being bipolar adds on as a perk.

Because you’re never in the middle, always at one end of the spectrum. One extreme.

This is me. This is Adriel. Pleasure.

Ironic, isn’t it. But isn’t life a paradox in itself;

About my blog:

Words pieced together. How do I ‘write’? I tap on a standard QWERTY keyboard, whatever that comes to my mind.

Why ‘myfruitcups”?

You decide.
Contact me

adriel@journalist.com