Aplomb

Ah, such is the joy of one soul carefully cultivated into a life filled with practiced ennui and jaded cynicism. Ironic, is it not? Found in the body of one so young, that is. More than a dozen times, I have found myself asking that very question to whatever it is beyond our realm of comprehension.

I am a bearer of such a diffident lifestyle - or more ironically, a bearer of one abundant in courage. Diffident because I lack the courage to leave my comfort zone? Or courageous because I choose to go against the grain and refuse to conform with the rest of the mortals who need company and activity all the live long day? The latter, surely. I've come to conclude that there are not 2 but rather 3 defining aspects in life: One is the people whom one consorts with, the other those whom she chooses to ignore completely. Not many people see the difference, indeed most are completely unaware that there is one. The third, unknown and invisible to the naked eye, are those who would rather keep their company to themselves. When one first discovers this, especially at such a young age, they start to feel alienated. They feel robbed of something intangible - one they cannot fully grasp nor understand, leaving them oddly bereft. Does this mean that their life is, god forbid, empty - nay, any less important?

Absolutely not. I have found that just because you have a lot to talk about, doesn't mean you have a lot to say. Precious few of my acquaintances are in possession of a brain (excluding my siblings, of course, who always have a LOT to say). Hardly ever am I able to find a person to converse with whose brain isn't filled with mindless fluff such as immature rants on how the world is out to get them:

"Oh no, I'm a teenager. My parents don't love me. My boyfriend doesn't love me. I hate the world. I hate my parents. I hate my boyfriend. I don't get everything I want. I should die. Just die. I have no more reason to live!" (I agree, people like you SHOULD die. Make the world a little less tedious for those of us who should live.)

or how the world is in love with them:

"I'm so hot. I'm beautiful. I'm rich. Everyone wants to be me! Yaaaay! I've tried SO hard to be those girls you watch on television and I have succeeded! That is my contribution to the world - myself (Self? The self that has emulated the characters those girls play on television who are mere fiction?) - and it is the best gift ever! EVER! But I will look down and be a bitch to those I consider beneath me! I wonder why a lot of people dislike me when I am SO great!" while squealing in delight (You ARE the best thing in the world... you have made SUCH a difference! Seriously!)

-- I do not know which of the two annoy me more.

So at this moment, I vow only to speak to those who deserve being spoken to. I shall address only those who command my attention. I will remain civil and polite, but not breed friendships that will drive me mad in a few months time (as if I would have been able to last that long).

It was Thomas Carlyle who once said that at times, silence is more eloquent than words. I cannot agree more. Never underestimate the power of prolonged silence, at the same time avoid being cowed and disconcerted by it.

I have the right to remain silent. There are times when I will practice it. Better to be thought of as a silent fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt.

For your sake, and everyone else's, I hope you do the same.

Good cop, bad cop.

Most days, I feel like I am/ act/ play the role of the bad cop -- the narrow-minded one. The one whose honesty is so stark, it becomes very difficult to listen to, almost completely deafening in my judgment of others. I feel like it alienates me, defines me fully as someone who is not exactly the easiest to get along with. And then I hear stories from people I've warned about the things I have warned them with, and I have this annoying feeling of superiority. "I told you so", I think. "You should have listened to me", I want to say. Annoying because while I gloat, I know that the people I care about are hurting. Not a very good sport, am I?

Sometimes, I feel like I've become the worst version of myself. Like a pandora's box of all the hateful things - my anger, my spite, my judgment, my arrogance, my condescension - has sprung open. Something upsets you and instead of smiling and walking away, you purposely hurt them. You take pleasure in the form of insulting someone, without thinking things through. And then after saying what you want to say at the exact moment you want to say it, remorse inevitably follows.

Today, for example. I wake up to my bestfriend hugging me and crying. I get up, body on alert, and ask her what happened. She carefully recounts the events that transpired, leading up to her breaking up with her boyfriend. While she cries, a part of me inside is screaming "I KNEW IT! Didn't I warn you? Didn't I tell you?!". As I sit there, idly listening to her rant and cry and belittle her existence by relying her happiness on another person, this completely different person takes over and she just feels smug about the fact that once again, she was right. I try to search for something comforting to say, just to make my bestfriend feel better, but what I get instead are a string of insults I'd rather not mention. I find that instead of being sympathetic, I feel condescending. I feel like she isn't using her head, and probably had this coming.

It's not a very good feeling. It sometimes comes off as feeding on other people's mistakes and misery.

In the midst of it all, I wonder -- am I too harsh on other people, when what I expect of them is only what I extract from myself? Am I too demanding and too judgmental? No, don't answer that. I'm not looking for the answer. I just wanted to send that cosmic quesiton out to the void. So goodnight, dear void...