If you can't contribute anything significant to the conversation, you're better off shutting your mouth and getting your feet off the floor.

I learned that thing the hard way today, in what otherwise could've been another one of those silently insignificant trips, an innocent attempt to glance at otherwise irrelevant things. Or maybe it's my tendencies to make a panic attack out of everything that's started out as, well, innocently nice. But in the middle of boyfriends defending girlfriends and friends agreeing with friends, it's getting harder to get yourself heard - more so if the world you exist in, which probably is the same world as mine, is known for dismissing one over the other without merit.

It's simple to claim you're the best, actually. There are only four basic words you need to learn to put together before you can be able to assert your faux pas supremacy: I am the best. From that point you can plug in a few other words to suit your needs. You can use it momentarily, when you need to boost your otherwise sagging self-esteem, or you can brandish it as part and parcel of your soul. Most importantly, you have to learn to find a way out of every loophole anybody who's asserting similarly throws at you. Well, that's the downside of being the best - being foolproof.

I know everyone who's as cheesy as me - anyone who prefers to write about fairy tales rather than the nitty-gritty of, say, living the life of a pretend have-it-all - has tackled the fact that everyone is good in one way or another, that there's always one aspect, however obscure, that can be given a full-blown appreciation. Of course, being merely human - another cheesy thing to write - I can't possibly see all of it in all people, because we've got emotions, and if someone annoys us intelligently, we end up thinking that person is plain stupid. But beyond being the best, which entails oppressive standards, there's always being plain influential. I think that's what we ought to aim for. Just don't mind whether your thought bubbles are getting people killed - that's an exaggeration, not to mention a guilt trip wannabe - and, instead, think of it as your own little contribution to the world.

And then wait to be appreciated for it, in whatever degree you wish. Wait for it to come. Wait some more.

The sucky part with existing is we all have the liberty to be self-righteous, to praise ourselves at every available moment. And we all also have the liberty to creating cliques and groups, and make sure that these are exclusive in one way or another. The dream of a world where everybody is welcome will very much remain a dream. You, after all, would have to conform to a certain standard, whatever your objections to it may be.

Technically my paranoia triggered this thing. But I'm very certain I haven't paid attention. Two months later I still haven't given anything significant to make sure that I do provide something important to the conversation. I've been getting short lines instead of elaborate explanations, and I'm still seeing, after all this time, boyfriends defending girlfriends and friends agreeing with friends. And besides, the very reason I write all these cheesy stuff instead of telling the world about what I've been into and where I've stumbled is the incessant, if irrelevant, need to impress you.

A slight glance at the other windows, and I realize that Jill's taken most of the photos I took of her. And I still want long, appreciative conversations, and then something else.