The streets are empty. The night is dark. The earth is quiet save for the sound of my own footsteps, meandering through the darkness. I’m kept from falling by nothing but the soft moonlight drifting through the clouds. A couple of stars twinkle in the sky, beckoning my eyes upward. I walk with no aim, no purpose, no reason, save that of pure escape. Now, walking is not a means to an end. It is its own end.
Tomorrow, I’ll have officially seen fifteen summers. So maybe I really haven’t seen enough to judge. But I get this feeling that maybe, just maybe, I’ve seen too much. Of human kindness, human ecstasy, human ambition, human frailty, human sorrow, human hatred, human revenge…humans in general.
And I realized that many people hated me. But I also realized that having one or two people who loved me and a dozen who hated me is better than having nobody at all feel anything at all toward me. The ones who love me make up for anything and everything the ones who hate me can do or say toward me.
And I found out that no matter how hard you work behind the scenes to achieve the amount of success you have, people will step up shamelessly to defame you, crying “dishonest,” “cunt,” “unworthy.” But I also found out that the only reason these pathetic bitches slander other people out of pure spite and jealousy is that deep down, they’re the ones who feel the most empty and unworthy, and only mind others’ business in order to feel better about themselves. And at the end of the day, they’re the reason behind most of the pain, envy, and hatred in the world.
And I found out that the ones you loved and were so good to might be the ones who end up fucking you over. But I only wish that didn’t matter. Because though I shall always remember that “love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love, cannot be killed or swept aside,” how much does it take for one to realize that love indeed is not all you need?
And I realized that I am unconsciously selfish. But it’s not even my intention that I get all stuck on the nitty-gritty and forget sometimes to reach out to others. For what is the point of existence beside to minimize suffering and maximize happiness for every life we touch?
But despite all this, I still have no idea what I’m doing. I still have yet to figure myself out emotionally, socially, mentally…I am anxious and depressed, socially inept, and though people think I’m smart, goddammit I fuckin’ ain’t, at most things. It’s just that many people equate smartness with good grades. Let’s see how wrong they actually are in 10 years.
So I don’t know how to deal with people; goddammit, I don’t even know who I am, what I want to do with my own life, let alone how to enter the lives of others. And I guess that’s okay. I may not grow up at midnight; I may not grow up at twenty-one; I may never grow up. But that’s okay…or so I hope.