Uh, yes and no. I think.
I’m happy because I’m still alive, and I have my dream with me.
I’m not happy because I keep killing my dreams with my own hands, because I’m too scared.
I’m happy because my family loves me, and they accept me with all my flaws.
I’m not happy because many times, I make it increasingly difficult for them to love me.
I’m happy because I’ve tried really hard to get it right, whatever it is that people want.
I’m not happy because I realized that people don’t want right; they just want easy. And I’m neither. Not right, not easy.
I’m happy because I’m just me.
I’m not happy because I’m probably the only person who is holding me back, tying my arms behind my back every time I spread them like wings, getting ready to fly.
So, yeah. It’s a bit of both, actually.
I never fail to surprise you, do I? 😉
Seriously though, this was a long time coming, among a lot of other things. This always happens to me when I’m at home for a long duration. I get time with myself, and then I start thinking about so many things I do wrong. I mean, come on. The world’s a crap place, but at least it’s got its bearings all right. I, unfortunately, need work.
I asked mom today about whether I was selfish or not. Here’s how the conversation went:
Me: Mom, do you think I’m selfish? Be honest.
Mom: Yes and no.
Me: Huh? Please explain.
Mom (puts away the carrot she’d been peeling): You’re just afraid, mostly. You put off dealing with stuff and people when you don’t know how to go about it. People are often there for you, but you don’t do the same thing to them because of your own fears. So, if you think about it from up top, yes, you’re selfish for doing that. But deep down, that wasn’t your intention at all.
And I thought she doesn’t pay enough attention to me. This was actually surprising, because I’m not very touchy-feely when it comes to sharing things. I have a trusted and solid group of friends, who know way more than they should (which they shamelessly use against me to their advantage, if need be. I’m not kidding), but that’s about the end of the line. Mom knows a fair deal, of course, but not the little things that I don’t even remember I do/say. You just have to be there to see them, I guess.
So, yes. After a particularly bad fight with a friend and my own rampant, restless mind, I decided this: I’m thinking too much.
That’s the first thing anybody notices about me: I think too much. Always searching for the Greater Meaning in everything. But sometimes, there just isn’t any Greater Meaning to find. Things are exactly what they look like. Cooking someone food doesn’t always mean that you’re willing to take care of them forever and after. Maybe it just means that you had food to spare.
Simple logic, really. I took an awful amount of time to realize that.
I never really give it a rest. I keep trying to make it all better, even when I know it won’t.
It’s like mixing freaking chemicals to get the perfect Molotov cocktail, only to watch it all blow up in flames in one big, spectacular explosion.
But you know what? I’m sure they’d be sorry when I actually do stop trying.
Maybe my mother is right.
Maybe it’s my inability to realize that not everybody will let you down.
I guess I’m just scared, after all.
Yes and no. This or that. Could go either way. 😉
You guys, stay awesome, and most importantly, be happy.
I’ll see y’all soon!