Today, 22nd of January, I felt a different kind of loneliness. I am not sure if this is the first time that I have felt such kind of loneliness. What I am certain of is that it was a grown-up kind of loneliness.
I had some drip in my eyes as a thawing gush of cold current crept from my brain to my lower back. The current gave me goose bumps. If I were more adept in vocabulary, I would have a name for it. But experience says it is self-pity, or something very similar to it.
I think I am just ripe to feel such emotion. What I fear is whether if I have enough self-esteem to manage it, tie it in bundle and dispose it somewhere or that I don’t have, and it will end just like the way I always end up with the many unfortunate events in my life— open-ended.
I have been thinking lately if whether I deserve all these things (and people) that surround me. If I may add, the things and people that surround me make me hate myself, and make me hate the world in a larger proportion.
The other day, I decided that all I have to do is just to entirely stop caring about them. Because if my memory serves me right, nothing good happened to me when I cared about other people, other concerns or other things other than myself. Maybe I have reached that stage when I have cared too much and ended up less appreciated for the big things, much more for the smaller but heavier ones. I have given too much of myself, I guess, to other people, to other concerns, to the best of what I can and yet receive too little to compensate even just for my mere initiative.
When I was ten years old, I thought that what people around me are only capable of doing is only to give and that I am to receive. But ten years later, I realize in many painful ways that people have to receive first before they can give. The problem with me is that I hardly receive but I always give something of myself for others. No, I do not regard myself as some saint, but I think I just got tired of giving.
It is a shame that this is all that I could afford of. But sometimes, I also have to think of myself. I know, and definitely it will, that sometime somehow, there will only be myself left to suffice the many necessities that makes human fully human like love, respect and happiness.
That is why I wonder why other people are so happy, or why is it that some receives too much of something from someone. Is that someone happy of what he is giving or maybe he has also gotten tired just like me?
Maybe I was born to give and never to receive. If that is so, then what a pity.
20 something, quarter-life crisis, loss of love, name it, nothing's weird.
