November 13, 2009
Until the Bitter End..
Life can get fucking shitty at times. And it sucks that I know things will get better, but they just aren't. What sucks
even more is thinking that some of these things will never get better,
and it would be a fact. And I am afraid to accept that. I am afraid
that as soon as I accept the fact that these things will never change, I
will lose myself. I will begin thinking ''why try to change things?
Why not just be alone and miserable for the rest of my life?''. I
become one of them. Another incapable-of-empathy,
don't-understand-shit-about-how-hard-others-around-me-try,
drifting-through-life and too-cowardly-to-die, human being.
How short-sighted would it be if the reason that I would switch career paths from becoming a psychiatrist to becoming a researcher would be to research why certain people either have a horrible, misconstrued perception of reality and have twisted versions of things that occur, or actually cannot empathize nor understand what they cause in others, ie, their words and its consequences on others, their behavior and its consequences on others, their actions (or lack of) and its consequences on others?
I cannot believe how much of an impact these people can have. What I have experienced has affected my interests. My future. My damn future. MY future. My FUTURE. But I won't succumb to complain. I've too much pride for that. Too much pride to have even admitted this has largely affected me. How much impact do I have on others? Can I make others feel better by just being there? Like others make me feel bitter by just being here? Bitter, bitter, bitter.
"You're a pathetic asshole, and you won't change. Even if your miserable self wanted to it'd be for the wrong reasons," I've practiced saying. If I ever come across him, it won't be "oh, hey! How've you been?" it'll be a fucking shoulder tackle that knocks him down. I'll say it, ask if he has anything he'd like to say, and I'll keep walking after whatever happens. Too violent? I'm not a violent person.
Fuck.
The world hasn't ended yet. And that's the worst part..
"And the clock still strikes midnight and noon
And the sun still rises and so does the moon
Birds still migrate south and people move on"
When is it my turn to move on? I want to badly. I don't want to give that someone the satisfaction of having me mad, wasting my time talking about it, staying up at nights thinking about everything that happened, it shouldn't be worth my effort. When will my clock strike noon and everything will be tucked away where it will never affect me again? Will it ever?
How short-sighted would it be if the reason that I would switch career paths from becoming a psychiatrist to becoming a researcher would be to research why certain people either have a horrible, misconstrued perception of reality and have twisted versions of things that occur, or actually cannot empathize nor understand what they cause in others, ie, their words and its consequences on others, their behavior and its consequences on others, their actions (or lack of) and its consequences on others?
I cannot believe how much of an impact these people can have. What I have experienced has affected my interests. My future. My damn future. MY future. My FUTURE. But I won't succumb to complain. I've too much pride for that. Too much pride to have even admitted this has largely affected me. How much impact do I have on others? Can I make others feel better by just being there? Like others make me feel bitter by just being here? Bitter, bitter, bitter.
"You're a pathetic asshole, and you won't change. Even if your miserable self wanted to it'd be for the wrong reasons," I've practiced saying. If I ever come across him, it won't be "oh, hey! How've you been?" it'll be a fucking shoulder tackle that knocks him down. I'll say it, ask if he has anything he'd like to say, and I'll keep walking after whatever happens. Too violent? I'm not a violent person.
Fuck.
The world hasn't ended yet. And that's the worst part..
"And the clock still strikes midnight and noon
And the sun still rises and so does the moon
Birds still migrate south and people move on"
When is it my turn to move on? I want to badly. I don't want to give that someone the satisfaction of having me mad, wasting my time talking about it, staying up at nights thinking about everything that happened, it shouldn't be worth my effort. When will my clock strike noon and everything will be tucked away where it will never affect me again? Will it ever?
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