Over the years, I have met many people. I have also known many others. Then there are are the few who I had befriended, and for some period of my life they were my role models, companions, and temporary acquaintances with whom I identified with. And the more people I got to know, the more I started to realize how much we are all alike. I'm not sure whether this revelation is a result of my slow progress into emotional maturity, or perhaps it is a fleeting thought. But it dawned upon me how truly messed up we all are. As a hopeless romantic and a stingy perfectionist, I have sailed through life, thus far, searching for a seedling of sanity in this raging sea of lunatics. Alas, the water would never settle. Little did I know that the water was calm all along, and the unforgiving sea was just my own reflection.
I can say, without exaggerating, that I have much fewer friends now than ever before. I have become the person that I had loathed as a whiny teen- I am the person who instinctively RSVPs "not attending" to any event that I'm invited to. I am the uptight person who nags others to add a few carrots to their dinner plate. I am the person who prefers steeped tea over a Tim's double double. I can spend the entire day staring at my cat and be completely content with my life. I have reduced my social networking friends from 1100 to less than a quarter of that, through the simple process of "do I care about this person?" And I ask myself, is this a part of growing past the teen years, or am I becoming a turtle locked up in its shell?
Yet I feel like I know more about life. I have learned that there are many facts that are out of our control, and that I should forgive when life spits situations at me that are far from ideal. We are all swimming in an ocean of chaos, so isn't it counter productive to drown a potential life saver? Why try to be someone I am not? Why should I not kiss my cat good night? Why deprive myself of consumable goods? Why spend time with people who merely tolerate me? In the end, the shoreline is out of everyone's reach, so why should I protest against a fact that will not budge? Why fight against the boulder of life, when it is so much stronger than I?
Winter is a depressing season. Elongated periods of time spent with half-friends, semi-family, and people whose names I have forgotten already. Turkey stuffing and cranberry sauce. Anthropomorphic penguins wearing red and green scarves. An overabundance of chardonnay and fine red wine. Mellow festive tunes. Stocking stuffers wrapped in tissue. Cheesy socks speckled with glitter and candy canes. It all makes me feel so...alone. The loneliest feeling is being stuck in a crowd of people, being forced into a routine of cheap talk and cheap laughs, being pushed from one room to the next, with no chance to acknowledge how messed up we all are. Now, in the privacy of my words on electronic paper, being shared with an infinite amount of people in this world, I proclaim that we are utterly, irreversibly screwed up, even while the porcelain angel peers down at me from the top of a Christmas tree, the tip piercing its white dress like a shish kebob.
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