Pain and Pleasure

June 11th, 2007

"Narcissists cannot think about other people.
Obsessive-compulsives cannot think about the big picture.
Passive-dependent people cannot think for themselves." – M.D. Peck

I continue to grieve but it was grief over missing something I don’t know. I never teach people to loathe whoever left them. I listen to what I never really wanted to hear. Such a big heart and a big mind I hold. I feared listening to what they have to share but instinctively, I detach myself for a moment. Perhaps, I was born to listen.
Like a cat that never whimpered when wounded, I bent down to nurse the grazed skin. Blood mingled with saliva. Salt and metallic and bland. It was a silent moment of an unknown compact.
Swept off by the humid air, with the scented incense sticks’ playful circling along it, I met the low jingling of the chimes above my head; acknowledging my pausing to sip water from the glass in front of me. I was torn between thinking freely and sulking. This instance is not new. I’ve realized that having to many ideas to feed on a topic gets you in trouble. Indulging yourself with what the truth is is unacceptable. People live in lies, in fact my parents live in lies, too (if you really wanted a confirmation). We have to play along instead to coexist with the normals. What is being normal exactly? Is it having to think, act and follow every rule of living your life as it has been lived by the society on God knows what date it was? People have become what they’ve become today by their own means. It doesn’t have to mean that you’re richer that him, you’ve made the greater progress with your life. If I could rip your heart open, are you up to see the truth? But it isn’t the heart that feels actually. There is no such thing as thinking over your mind or heart. It is the brain that impulsively sends out reactions on what you presently feel. We can’t seem to speak for others. The greatest help we could give is simply be a listener and converse in a way that you won’t distract them from what they’ve been used to. It is up to them to crawl out of what they want off their skin. The paradox of our being righteous and accepted stems out from us, naturally. Illusions are what keeps us going. It is not the dream nor the wishes.
I will be returning to school this week, I’ve felt the first fear of what I should become after it. My last name doesn’t uphold a business tycoons’ nor an elitist’s. The conformity of talking with people keeps me up. An illusion of being responsible and needed by everyone. Is it bad? What is bad actually? As I come to know, the last days we’ll have would give us only one meaning for one word and heaven is not going to be a jeweled paradise nor gold pathways and gates. It is going to be a moment that we’ll soon understand what’s supposed to be the truth and we’ll end up blank and meaningless. It isn’t going to be a picturesque view of your retreat house.
As a few would come to me and talk about their hatred or boundless love towards a person, I’ve only gotten to realize that people indeed are dependent with each other. Not in conclusive to the "No man is an island" idiom. We relate to each other to live. Another given fact of illusion.
I was asked before to pick up the first letter of my name and give out an adjective starting with it. I — iconoclast, came out from my mouth within a second. She laughed and said, I am going to be a known "hard-headed" within the premises. I dared not to be even but I never thought I was cool since I was facing a sea of unknown faces and was responding to my superior. Inevitable to what’s to be expected, I’ve spoken what my brain has darted towards my mouth.
I’ve permitted crime my way and I was left unable to speak nor feel. It has shriveled my glowing independence as I have to remember the blade from the knife what was focused on my chest. Unwittingly, I’ve cried in defeat in my man’s arms. A noted reaction of the unprepared and almost dead. I share my own pains and pleasures but it gratifies me when people freely talk to me and I have to listen to them. Unknown by them, listening hypnotizes me into thinking what I should be thinking. May it be related to their qualms or not. It is then a brief prayer for myself.
To the people who dares looking down at people who considers themselves weak, you are cursed with loneliness. The fact that it is ideal for you to trample over someone else’s life "unintentionally" is the weakest alibi that you could formulate to let people see that you are strong. I could laugh at your face but you won’t see it from me but you’ll have it on your own reflection. It is your own bigotry that eats your subconscious mind.
I cannot justify that I am right but I am thinking.