No good deed goes unpunished, they said. I wish that phrase never existed, I said. Then again, even if the phrase never existed, the moral dilemma connected to that phrase would live on forever.
I admit, I’m a scatterbrain; an absent-minded fool. I forget things almost instantly. I don’t remember names, only faces. People always have to repeat things they’ve said twice for me to register or ‘hear’. When I’m busy with something, for instance reading a book or writing something down on a piece of paper, I actually don’t hear anything when someone speaks to me directly. It just sounds like an audible blur. Thus, repeat. When someone wakes me up early in the morning to ask some favor of me, I have to call them later on to explain to me what they have said, for I remember only shattered phrases, some of which makes no sense at all. I think that happens to anyone when the brain is still asleep. This is who I am, part of my character. My cousin once told me that I need not be ashamed of my eccentricity although it might inspire some problems. I can’t do anything about it, and I won’t rely on medicine to ‘clear’ my brain or ‘help’ me think straight. I can think straight, but on my own terms. I have a very short attention span, and sometimes I even have difficulty reading my follower’s posts. Sometimes I just don’t, although I can read one book after the other. It’s a constant war between who and what I am against the frail edge of sanity? patience? acceptance? Pick one.
I have been hurt very badly today because of who I am. Love is not the big issue here, I don’t believe in that, but camaraderie, friendship, the strong adopted bonds with people I came to see as family, believing there is still some good in people who had it bad. Hell, believing there is still some good in people, end. Impatience killed the dog. Anyone can turn on you when the heat gets rough, there is no denying. Self preservation is the strongest form of selfishness; sometimes good, sometimes bad. So, I’m asking, is it my fault getting hurt? I would believe so, for no single being on this entire godforsaken planet is responsible for my decisions but myself. I let people into my life, I let people get to know me, open my trust and all. The only thing about building a friendship is that you will never know how it will end. There is no way of knowing at all. Someone has to get hurt. Why not the one who gives himself completely to making things work?
I’m done. I think the only way for weak people – people who care the most, trust the most, work the most – to survive such ordeals is to detach themselves completely from any emotions. Emotions are based on what one feel. Take feeling out, rip it away, and for once, be peaceful.
That will be all . . .