I just read a quote somewhere that said, it is our choice whether we choose creative altruism or destructive selfishness. And that love is the only answer to the greatest questions in the world. Blah-blah-blah.
Right now I feel like I’m walking toward the dark end of the spectrum. It’s not that I don’t want to love people. I do. I’m trying, I’m doing my best. But… I feel like I’m not getting anything in return.
I’m on the giving end, but where is the receiving end?
It’s true what they say: if you love and expect it back, you don’t love, not really. Or… is it? True, I mean? Let’s face it: keep on giving, try it for weeks, months, and when you feel you’re not receiving… when you feel you would like to receive, but you aren’t? Because somehow… somehow people are happy when you do something for them, but then… Oh well, they probably think I’m much better off. I don’t need anything.
Why would I? I have a roof over my head, I have a fiancé, I have a family, I have friends, I have hobbies, I have work. What in the world would I need more? So why the hell would anyone want to ask me how I feel… if I’m feeling happy… in this “perfect” life of mine… why would anyone care, why would anyone…?
Why remember my birthday? It’s just one day of the many. I expect no gifts, I swear. I just expected… a Happy birthday.
When I ask how you’re feeling, I mean it… when I help, I mean it… someone once said to me: if you have much, you have to give much. She was right. I am giving much. I am learning to give much. But I cannot give more. Not like this.
This is why I prefer my cave sometimes. This is why I often want that desert island so bad. This is why I sometimes prefer our cats… and movies. Cats purr… they are warm… they are there. Movies teach me profound and important lessons.
I don’t want to organize things any more, I don’t want to hold communities together, I’m not an organizer and I’m certainly not a leader. I’m just like you and I did not want this role. Ever. And I never said I was special. You said that. All of you who loved me when I was easy, and exciting, but forgot all about me when I decided to stop catering for your needs. I’m not writing stories any more. I’m not making wallpapers any more. I’m not a service centre… but I do care about you. All of you. I wish I could help you all. I can’t, and I’ve stopped trying. And the moment I stopped trying, you forgot about me…
I need no friends who never, ever ask me how I feel. I wish I could be Mother Theresa. I dearly wish. But I’m not… I’m only me. Despicable me.
I’m just a person like everyone else, I can only operate with batteries. Emotional batteries. My batteries run down every other day now. And I hate that… but I’m fragile and I sulk when I’m not paid attention to.
Please don’t look for me if you need something. Please ask me how I feel first. Because I did what you asked, I listened to you, I helped you so many times.
When was the last time you did what I asked, you listened to me, you helped me?
