No. This is not Pablo Neruda’s poem. I could hardly think of a better title to start this piece of crap so as to compensate this inconsequential musing over some people who matter to me.
I could barely imagine the closest people to me (or so I thought were close to me) are the very same persons who really don’t know me. Haply it’s already a fact. Some people you think are friends with you are the people who really don’t want to share their lives with you. They would consciously or unconsciously make you feel unwanted or unimportant. They choose the people they would talk to about their musings according to what they think the other person would like to hear. Or at times, they would hang around the set of people who’s always chilling it out when situations get unbearable like a good group-therapy circuit. They wouldn’t want to talk it over. They would always wait for the moment when it’s already over with and act like nothing has happened. It’s hard to admit but right now I feel unimportant. Not that I think I do not deserve this kind of treatment but I think it’s time that these people should think that they have me as a friend, a brethren. But if their perception of a friend is something ephemeral, then I guess I’m wasting my time here thinking of them. Being mad won’t help the situation. It isn’t smart of me to jeopardize my relationship with this people I think of as friends.
Right now, I hope these people just forget about me, I wouldn’t mind. I could always recollect the time when our relationships were thickly brushed, layered and pulsating. Then try not worry when they become stagnant.
Yes, technologies have opened up ways for communicating. But I guess it would always fall short of intensifying relationships. Of course, we get more done and keep in touch with more people in less time because technology allows us to do so. Yet, don’t say you miss somebody when you don’t really mean it or just to get it over with. This kind of interaction is bursting out like a Jackson Pollack painting --- texture and paint slapped and poured around us all the time --- but it would often make us feel lonely.
Today I just feel like listening to people as I stare up to where the walls meet the ceiling, walk like I’m in a dream, taking a step every two seconds for dramatics.
I could barely imagine the closest people to me (or so I thought were close to me) are the very same persons who really don’t know me. Haply it’s already a fact. Some people you think are friends with you are the people who really don’t want to share their lives with you. They would consciously or unconsciously make you feel unwanted or unimportant. They choose the people they would talk to about their musings according to what they think the other person would like to hear. Or at times, they would hang around the set of people who’s always chilling it out when situations get unbearable like a good group-therapy circuit. They wouldn’t want to talk it over. They would always wait for the moment when it’s already over with and act like nothing has happened. It’s hard to admit but right now I feel unimportant. Not that I think I do not deserve this kind of treatment but I think it’s time that these people should think that they have me as a friend, a brethren. But if their perception of a friend is something ephemeral, then I guess I’m wasting my time here thinking of them. Being mad won’t help the situation. It isn’t smart of me to jeopardize my relationship with this people I think of as friends.
Right now, I hope these people just forget about me, I wouldn’t mind. I could always recollect the time when our relationships were thickly brushed, layered and pulsating. Then try not worry when they become stagnant.
Yes, technologies have opened up ways for communicating. But I guess it would always fall short of intensifying relationships. Of course, we get more done and keep in touch with more people in less time because technology allows us to do so. Yet, don’t say you miss somebody when you don’t really mean it or just to get it over with. This kind of interaction is bursting out like a Jackson Pollack painting --- texture and paint slapped and poured around us all the time --- but it would often make us feel lonely.
Today I just feel like listening to people as I stare up to where the walls meet the ceiling, walk like I’m in a dream, taking a step every two seconds for dramatics.
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