My sincerity only extended from the fact that it has always been about myself. In my head, even the things I do for other people, it was an extension of what I feel and what I value. At the end of the day, I would see things that I did in the past, and how could I regret them?
They're all things that I do for myself. Sometimes I got a lot of help, and sometimes it's nice to have some people to cheer you on.
But I am stubborn and uncaring, and it feels so natural for me to think that way, that people don't owe me and I don't owe anyone, because I thought 'why would you do something that isn't for you?'
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Sometimes I will get hurt in the heart, and I imagine it like a bruise or a scratch. Not an open wound, or anything that bleeds, but just a minor thing. It stings a bit the time you got it, but then it will pass. It will probably hurt for a few days or so, and it will be a bit raw when you touch them directly, but perhaps you wouldn't think too much of it.
Sometimes I can see that I was hurt, and I don't even remember when or how I got them--but I wouldn't care much, because it will heal, and it usually heals fast.
I get bruised in the heart so easily lately.
Does not seem like a good thing at first, but I wonder if I have always been easily bruised, I just never noticed because I don't care enough.
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There are days when being normal is very trying. I don't think people around me really comprehend how much I suck up to be normal. I mean, they don't need to. But I tried really hard, at being normal thing. Whatever that means.
And it sometimes it crushed me a bit... or a lot, when I get told that I didn't pull it off as well as I thought I was.
Sometimes I want to tell them I don't even wanna (be normal). Sometimes I want to tell them I am really not (normal). Sometimes I want to tell them that this is already as normal as I can get and please just accept it.
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When I speak I tone down so many things, I feel. I am actually awkward, and I practice so I get to talk in more eloquent manner. For difficult subjects, I will rehearse it in my head, or to the darkness of my room, or write it down, hoping that when I talk it would at least has a good resemblance of what I have poured out then and there.
It usually didn't. But it still work out in the end, so I'll take that.
Sometimes.
Sometimes the subject will never come up, and I will never bring it up.
I will forget it.
And in retrospect, I feel like maybe, those are perhaps things I never need people to know anyway, and that it's enough for me to have an imagined scenario in my head, where I get to say things I want to say, even when I will never get an answer to it.
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I am patient enough.
I am very indulgent so for some things that is hard for me, I will probably take forever. But I hardly ever rush myself for those kind of things. I can wait.
I am proud of it, you know? Patience is a good virtue. I apparently have more for myself than I have for many other things in general.
It's just I think that people will not have enough for me, and I wonder if I would care.
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Sometimes I get a mood like this, where I talk about things that mostly upsetting, when I am not upset at the time.
I process awful feelings in a way slower rate than I am with better ones (and the better ones are pretty slow already).
It's a double-edged sword, I guess.
Because perhaps I don't feel truly miserable when it happens, because I have little clue of what's going on. And yet I don't feel truly miserable now that I see it in retrospect, because even though I understand more it's a feeling that no longer around.
I will get better in due time.
