Blanket statements

At one point, I thought it sucks to be really in touch with your feelings. It's one thing to know what they are, and it's another thing to know when they actually strike. If you're someone like me, who's out to know whether the things I encounter are the things I am supposed to encounter, then you probably understand how it feels to be continuously bothered by the things that you see, and all the things that you associate with it.

People do say it's good to be in touch with your feelings. Ideally, that means you know when you have crossed the line, and when you have disregarded all those warnings of you crossing the line. It also means you're able to relate to all those people that are in a somewhat similar place as you, or in a totally different one. I've used that thing to my advantage, as a means of self-gratification whenever people come to me and ask for advice about things that I have never experienced before, and probably never will. Still, it amazes me that I have an answer to their ramblings - when it's time to give up, or when it's time to give in.

The same people also say that sensitivity is a good thing. I may lose in this regard - I am tactless in some spots, after all - but I occasionally choose to think of myself as someone who's in a position to sympathize with people that I choose to sympathize with. Just tell me the story, and I'll probably figure it out; tell me a few more details, and I'll most probably have an opinion about it. The biggest downside, however, lies in sensitivity itself, or better yet, me getting so affected by things that it stops me from working in the most severe of cases.

I don't do New Year's resolutions, but I silently promise things to myself whenever I have to. That's all I have to d, I guess, to stop myself from falling on the same pits again. I hate being emotional too, you know; although it powers the things I write about, it leaves me going in circles at its best, and very desperate at its worst. In elementary school, of course, it was a very innocent thing: "hindi na ako magkaka-crush sa iba" was eventually broken after four years. I have since made a fool of myself countless times.

I'm still holding on to some of those promises, however. I've consistently claimed to my family that I'll never settle down and start a family of my own, but they don't know the real reason for that: I won't be able to get started. The loophole is, I always think of that promise whenever I find myself attracted to someone. The advantage is, I prevent myself from getting hurt over the prospects of getting dumped, if I decided to pursue it. (First, I never pursued any of my feelings. Second, I hold the record for the world's lowest self-esteem.) The disadvantage is, I've always had to grapple with myself, because it always happens: I think of one thing, and yet I think of another. It's either I start the ball rolling, or I start to curl up and find a way out.

How the heck, then, do some people manage to keep their promises? They vow, at one point, that they'll never get into a relationship. They'll claim that they'd rather have their arms torn off than have someone to lean on when the fridge is left open and the room gets cold. They'll say a few things and stick with them, and regardless of how freaky things turn out in the future, they'll just dismiss it with their earlier vows. Don't tell me they don't feel anything - not despise, not apathy, not even the slightest grin in the face, however perverse it may be. Don't tell me that they're just able to summarily dismiss everything that's raised because of that frigging vow. Don't tell me they're hard wired to do that forever.

I don't know what hurts me the most: that I can't do anything about my own problems, or that those problems are a result of other people dealing with problems that haven't even existed. Say one thing and lock the door, and I'm sure you've ended up hurting, say, maybe ten people or so. At least those ten people know how it feels to be how it really feels, unless you're a robot, or you're abused in your childhood, or you're just deeply involved in your philosophical poetry. Thankfully I don't read poetry, because I know it'll hurt me more.

And your responses...

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