the complexities

There are many things I am not.

Sure of myself, in a constant state of contentment, religious, alone. I know I am not a bad person.

There are many things I am.

Confident in who and what I am, lonely, comfortable in what I have, kind, privileged, angry, depressed, yet more happy than not. Trusting in the universe.

I think people forget the complexity of everyone around them. Obviously we are all the centers of our own universe; naturally, there’s nothing wrong with that. We are the only ones living inside our head: we can and will only understand the complete complexities that come with your own emotions, your memories, everything you have ever experienced.

There are many things people think I am not; this depends on the moment in my life they met me, how long they stayed, how much I opened up, how much they shared of themselves. What part of myself I shared with them, because it is not, will not ever be possible to share the entirety of oneself with another.

There are many things people think I am; they are correct and incorrect all in the same. As we are about everyone.

What is it about this person whom you have never met, that you so dislike? The stories you have heard and the people they have associated with. Perhaps they dated someone before, or after you. Perhaps they did something to your friend without even knowing they were hurting them. Why do you put so much effort into thinking about, caring about, bitching about people who have never directly affected your life? Who are just simply blindly finding their way as much as you are.

Do you know how fucking nonsensical it is to actively not like someone because they have something you want? Or because they did something you don’t approve of? Or simply because? Because you can’t find a reason but you have so many negative feelings you have to lay them on someone else.

Purposefully hurting someone because you can’t make sense of the mess in your own head. Allowing your ego to get the better of you, throwing people aside as if they are objects and not as complex, possibly even more, than you.

Getting so focused in on whatever you are going through that you forget those around you have seen or done or been in similar, or even worse, situations. Not thinking about what you are saying to those you are saying it to.

We have all experienced life in different ways. Even those who have experienced the exact same situation; lost the same person, cried tears about the same thing; each person felt it in a multitude of different ways. Still grieve in their own separate ways.

For a moment just stop yourself. Stop yourself from complaining about someone who indirectly hurt your feelings, stop complaining about not being good enough, or losing someone, or missing someone. Look at the person you’re complaining to and ask if they have seen it all. Turn your complaints into contemplations and explore what you are feeling, what you have felt, what you are going through.

Because by god I am tired of people complaining about the insignificance of bullshit, of people who haven’t done anything to them, or of something they’re going through and they talk as if the person they’re laying it on haven’t already been through it.

Turn it into a contemplation.

A contemplative stare, and a breath that signals that I made it another moment. A slow sip of the harsh, cheap red wine running down my throat and everything quietens just a sliver; it all slows. We made it another moment. We all made it another moment. We have many more laughs to share, tears to shed, the shittest and yet best of life is yet to come. The beauty of the unknown.

 

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Categories: Rackers

rackers

24 year old writer, just trying to find her way through the world through words and funny anecdotes.

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