Maybe it's because I always explore what people mean when they say or write things. Maybe it's my interest in where things come from, thoughts, moods, opinions. I've always been able to sift through the facade people put up and see their true words, sometimes finding that they aren't aware themselves. We love catching people in Freudian slips and oohing to embarrass them, but that isn't what I mean. I mean being aware. I'm painfully aware of my surroundings. I've been so for a long time and maybe it's that I like to cherish the things that might make me remember something, with senses other than just sight.
A few weeks back, I may even have written about it, I smelled a floral bouquet and it reminded me of a scent someone used. It was in a body wash or some other after bath gel, but it was something I became quite fond of, even if I never said. Then the other day I saw a shadow on the wall and it reminded me of a time when my insomnia started. The memory wasn't of a pleasant time, but it took me back to ones that eventually were. I think over the years my awareness has done more harm than good. I've suspected children who were beaten, some worse and I can't always say, because that uncertainty can be costly. The one thing I have noticed with this acute sense, is how little it affects others. I am absolutely amazed at how unaware people are of what they say and do, even regarding the most seemingly insignificant things.
Maybe it's sheer pettiness or maybe it's an unconscious shout. A written page, masked in an ode to someone gone, but merely a cry for someone much different to return. The inability to check what is needed, even when it stares at you, possibly falling into your hands. Empty containers, not jiggled before a shop, then the incessant whine of how someone forgot. The question isn't how did you forget, but how do you never check? The purposeful waste, because it gets a rise, but is it my disdain for spoiled food or my incredible disdain for passive aggressive behavior that brings this on? Like I've written before, this irony in writing this, but when your words and your feelings are ignored, you're left with little choice.
But then, the real issue. How far are you willing to take it. Choosing the admiration of some sniveling twit over the love of your family is one thing, but to then bring others into it. To have them turn against someone, because you're too weak to admit your failures. That's what bothers me and makes me wonder; how the mere attention of a pet, who simply craves affection and food, can turn someone so cruel. Or is it something else? Is it simply a lack of any understanding of what is happening? A breakdown of coherent thought? Is it possible, the door left open for the animal to wander off wasn't done on purpose and maybe it's something physiological? It's not the first time doors are left unlocked, lights on, TVs, screens left open with damning verse and romantic overtures that were denied months back. Those usually pair with the stench of some brandy and whatever else was guzzled down to make the distance shrink.
And I am stuck, hobbling around, viewing half of this by mistakes after mistake, but how many mistakes before I start to really wonder, if this is for real or all part of a plan. If turning me away is the desire, it's not only been effective, but it's set in stone. I'm aware now, after months of reflection of how selfish people I've trusted have been. I ended my life, as I knew it, to care for another, while others lead their lives as always. Never once seeing the struggle, consumed with how illness impeded their own comfort. I'd be lying to call it an epiphany, because self-centered behavior doesn't just appear. It's been there since my first memories, but I thought it normal, like so many I know respond to a wooden spoon or leather belt with nostalgia, my beatings were different, merely forsaking my own happiness for someone else's. I'm aware now and just waiting for that door to be left open for me, with no responsibility for another's comfort holding me back. It must be nice to live, never ever being aware of others. I need that, if even just for a bit, but then someone else will call and I won't be able to turn my back and the worst part is, they know it.
A few weeks back, I may even have written about it, I smelled a floral bouquet and it reminded me of a scent someone used. It was in a body wash or some other after bath gel, but it was something I became quite fond of, even if I never said. Then the other day I saw a shadow on the wall and it reminded me of a time when my insomnia started. The memory wasn't of a pleasant time, but it took me back to ones that eventually were. I think over the years my awareness has done more harm than good. I've suspected children who were beaten, some worse and I can't always say, because that uncertainty can be costly. The one thing I have noticed with this acute sense, is how little it affects others. I am absolutely amazed at how unaware people are of what they say and do, even regarding the most seemingly insignificant things.
Maybe it's sheer pettiness or maybe it's an unconscious shout. A written page, masked in an ode to someone gone, but merely a cry for someone much different to return. The inability to check what is needed, even when it stares at you, possibly falling into your hands. Empty containers, not jiggled before a shop, then the incessant whine of how someone forgot. The question isn't how did you forget, but how do you never check? The purposeful waste, because it gets a rise, but is it my disdain for spoiled food or my incredible disdain for passive aggressive behavior that brings this on? Like I've written before, this irony in writing this, but when your words and your feelings are ignored, you're left with little choice.
But then, the real issue. How far are you willing to take it. Choosing the admiration of some sniveling twit over the love of your family is one thing, but to then bring others into it. To have them turn against someone, because you're too weak to admit your failures. That's what bothers me and makes me wonder; how the mere attention of a pet, who simply craves affection and food, can turn someone so cruel. Or is it something else? Is it simply a lack of any understanding of what is happening? A breakdown of coherent thought? Is it possible, the door left open for the animal to wander off wasn't done on purpose and maybe it's something physiological? It's not the first time doors are left unlocked, lights on, TVs, screens left open with damning verse and romantic overtures that were denied months back. Those usually pair with the stench of some brandy and whatever else was guzzled down to make the distance shrink.
And I am stuck, hobbling around, viewing half of this by mistakes after mistake, but how many mistakes before I start to really wonder, if this is for real or all part of a plan. If turning me away is the desire, it's not only been effective, but it's set in stone. I'm aware now, after months of reflection of how selfish people I've trusted have been. I ended my life, as I knew it, to care for another, while others lead their lives as always. Never once seeing the struggle, consumed with how illness impeded their own comfort. I'd be lying to call it an epiphany, because self-centered behavior doesn't just appear. It's been there since my first memories, but I thought it normal, like so many I know respond to a wooden spoon or leather belt with nostalgia, my beatings were different, merely forsaking my own happiness for someone else's. I'm aware now and just waiting for that door to be left open for me, with no responsibility for another's comfort holding me back. It must be nice to live, never ever being aware of others. I need that, if even just for a bit, but then someone else will call and I won't be able to turn my back and the worst part is, they know it.
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