I’m finding myself unusually frustrated and disappointed at the conduct of people around me lately. Not people’s general conduct, I suppose… moreso their treatment of me specifically, if that doesn’t sound too goddamn whiney and “woe is me” (it does) (I don’t care). These are typical feelings (I think?) that we all experience sometimes, or maybe what seems like incessantly, but certain situations have recently arisen and have left me feeling particularly let down by the human race. Slash particularly misanthropic and homicidal? Maybe to that extent, yes, that.
Unfortunately, I have a penchant for dwelling on things, as does the majority of my generation with an IQ over 100 (kidding, I would unsarcastically say 125 because stupid people don’t actually analyze anything). “I will not ruminate on the people I’ve lost,” I keep telling myself, but I just get so god damn sensitive and nostalgic and angsty and then there goes my head again, obsessing over some dramatically futile situation with an ex-friend that happened 6 months ago and remains unresolved and eating at my damn soul. The memories, the memories, man! And then I’m just assessing and doubting all human relationships and all human interactions and just all humans and … fuck. Every single song or scent or place or physical object is laden with roughly 10,000 associations for me; I remember moments and periods of my life with people so vividly, it’s draining. And it hurts my heart. And that is my blessing and burden, to feel things so damn deeply.
There’s this thing I’ve been trying to forcefully drill into my head, and it’s that I have to learn not to expect others to adhere to the same moral standards I hold myself to in everything I do. As much as I hate people and their inherent nature as a whole, I’m generally super polite, reassuring, a good listener, honest – painfully so, at times – considerate of others, compassionate, etc. etc. I’m also a sucker for those who confront me from an emotional angle, so no matter what atrocity someone has committed against me, I will inevitably respond like a mushy sap to a sentimental appeal of some sort because I HAVE A GODDAMN HEART AND I CANNOT HELP IT. Why people can’t reciprocate, I have no idea. I smile at people, I apologize to people, I laugh with people, I start random conversations with strangers when I feel like we can mutually relate to some aspect of the human condition. I don’t consider myself a forgiving person, but I do tend to miss people a whole fucking lot and get really, really bothered by falling outs (fallings out? Someone help here) and the loss of how things used to be. The good days, you know? I miss those days with each and every individual I know if things have since gone sour or if we’ve lost touch. I just want to write an extensive, heartfelt letter to every person I’ve ever met as if I’m fighting a losing battle with cancer that will peter out with a fateful end in four months. And I just want them to reply as such, too.
But you know what? Some people just don’t have a heart, don’t have a brain, or don’t give a shit. I can spend the rest of my life begging for conversations or explanations from people for their actions towards/treatment of me, but they, in the end, are the ones responsible for how they respond, or if they do at all. And, in the end, they’re the ones who have to live with how they’ve chosen to treat others. That’s on them, not me, despite the fact that I may be the only one tortured by it RIGHT NOW. And as tempted as I am to be more specific about my situations and to name names, I won’t stoop to the level of others’ immaturity. Maybe it will be in a year, or in 10 years, or on their death bed, but something will remind them of something and they maaaay feel a tiny bit like shit or have some sense of remorse for how they’ve been. And when they message me on that day, I can scream a long-dormant triumphant FUCK YOU in their faces. Realistically though… I’ll probably just cry, envelope them in a hug of relieved reconciliation, and go back to being their friend.