For the first time in my nineteen years on this planet, I got described as sensitive. Too sensitive, perhaps, is the best term.

I don't know if it's supposedly something bad or good. Different people put a premium on different, contradictory things. Some look for a person with some hint of sensitivity, sometimes disguised as "in touch with one's emotions" or "a very good listener who understands" or something along those lines. Some say being sensitive just annoys the hell out of them, because of their constant rambling about the smallest altercations. Such punch for three syllables, isn't it?

Then again, we need some sensitivity if we're to really exist in this world. It's hard seeing something without having at least a silent reaction, or else you'd be, well, stiff. Come to think of it, everything around us is a result of sensitivity - of a reaction to something we've encountered. I'll go babble about technology, and you'll wonder whether I'm writing this blog entry with a dictionary beside me, because it seems like a prolonged dictionary definition.

Like most dictionary definitions, too much of it can be painful. (Yes, that is a terribly forced transition. I'll admit.) That's where people who scoff as whining people come in. Perhaps for some, their problems are simply a never-ending marathon of teen angst as perfectly illustrated on Pinoy Big Brother, and it will eventually get in someone's nerves. Someone will definitely have expressed his grief over the most rudimentary things in life, like failing a course or failing to reheat rice perfectly. And someone will definitely get an axe, sharpen it, and practice swinging it on hapless watermelons that weren't picked to represent visual innuendo.

Two days ago, I got described as sensitive. Fittingly so, I guess. I actually see it as a benefit - how else would my worst excuse for art be possible if not for my queries about this unfair world? - and somehow it also gives me some self-gratification, especially when I'm confronted with someone's problems and end up giving acceptable advice without having any background on such. (If I start joking around, that's when I lose my sensitivity. Right, Elaine?) If I start complaining about the world in an excessively painful fashion, that's not sensitivity; that's being plain annoyed at why things aren't going my way. And since it isn't for you, perhaps, when it happens, then nobody wins.

Sensitivity makes the world go round. Now that's what I believe in. It's something undeniable, and consequently, something that's mucked about by stereotypes. Perhaps you think me being sensitive entails constant crying in bed and me being on the verge of a homosexual orientation. That's why some people despise the so-called "emo" people, and why the so-called "emo" people despise the people that despise them. It's something treated unfairly, rather than being given its utmost respect.

Despite this though, you can't deny it - it's gotta work for you someday. And you've gotta get there even if you haven't. If there's an acceptable excuse - loosely put, actually - for being sensitive, it's when someone's giving you the cold shoulder, for no reason at all. And yes, you're perhaps guilty of this. Synthetic sensitivity, anybody?

And your responses...

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