What the F-ic Fail

As I add years to my life, I realize that life makes you stronger or stranger or it just simply kills you.

It inevitably does either of these two because it’s a series of watching more hearts get broken over time, one’s own heart or other people’s.

Sometimes it can already be considered a huge feat to be able to stand strong. Or just basically keep standing. Sometimes, standing is all you can do. Or crawling if you cannot stand it anymore. And when they keep stepping on your face while you crawl, you eat the dirt and grovel in it and make it your food until you can stand again. Or you die, basically. Die trying or just will yourself dead.

I was a fan of positive psychology. But it is not the be all and end all of things. It’s not enough to just fill your head with good vibes. For years, I deluded myself into thinking that drowning out my head with positive thoughts will insulate me from the evils that lurk and wreak its poisonous tentacles in my life and the lives of other people I have met in this world. Those superficial “it’s all in the mind” bozos probably did not have to ride the tides of mania and depression or probably did not have to meet the people I unfortunately encountered in this lifetime.

I tried so hard to resurrect my natural belief in the goodness of people. But often I am faced with the opposite.

I find many things, mainly that people are evil.

People are greedy, insensitive, horrible, and difficult to be with. People can disregard that you deserve your slot and force you to pay for their gym memberships even when they will be the only ones using the room for months on end.

People will insult you randomly because they need to for whatever life issue they’ve got (e.g. lacking an ovary, bitch fit, stress, etc.)

People just discriminate, judge, tell your secrets, put you in a bad light, and ask you to trust them with all of your heart but bullshit you behind your back.

People will call you a friend so that they can make money out of you, split your check shamelessly, and make you pay for their meals when their boss screams at them.

People will ask help for their websites then forget about you when they get what they need.

People can disregard your years of being together just for career advancement or some gain they cannot carry to their graves.

People will get your market value and sell your intel over to your competitors. Even when you got things fair and square, they will steal and badger their way in.

People will fuck you over even when you are good. Oh wait, let me change that. People can and will fuck you over especially when you are good or loving to them. People will piss on your face and shit on your hand when you hold it our for a handshake.

Everything I was ever taught since I was young tells me otherwise. But everything I have ever seen apart from what I was taught is mostly this– pain, struggle, grovelling, survival. And the immense greed of man.

The tiny cracks of disillusionment has become the biggest trench of this mind.

News flash: The world is never fair.

Prediction and More News Flash: It will never be fair.

I have found good people but they are as tiny and few as the fairies of Neverland. There are more ogres that pay obeisance to the immense and boundless greed of man. My default setting is to avoid being abused or hurt by the people around me, whether they do it intentionally or not.

I used to be such a risk taker.  I was the daredevil, always opening myself up to people with the inherent belief that there is good in every person.

But these days, I question every step I make. I question everything. I question even periods and commas and exclamation points in the syntax of my life.  These days it’s just a bunch of bullshit ellipsis. (No offense meant to this lovely punctuation mark which I bravely sully in my current distress.)

Now even in places where I placed periods, there are just question marks. Question marks on periods that I used to ascribe as truth.

No more periods. Just a bunch of ill-placed commas.

I’ve found futility  in trying to disentangle myself from my uncertainties. Uncertainty is the only certainty. And when something can go wrong, it most certainly will.

I used to just view stark and dark cynicism from a distance. Now, I am smack in the middle of it, breathing it, living it, eating it for breakfast lunch and dinner, bathing in it, and sleeping in it.

I used to look inside and I find light. These days, I look inside and I just find pieces of the old me but they’re barely traceable. I hardly look in the mirror because I do not know what I’d find.

It seems like it can never go back to the old self and it’s turning into something else.

I used to love to share whatever light I have to people. I loved encouraging people. Now I just want to wither away silently and conserve energy just like they do with Mother Earth now. Because frankly speaking, there’s nothing left to give.

They say what you are when you are young stays with you until you grow old, that people have templates or destinies. But I don’t think that applies for me. I am just changing.

Into what, I am not entirely certain. It seems it’s becoming stronger and stranger and angrier by the minute but none of it is comforting.

This world is filled with people I cannot trust, but I have to continue to live in it until the ground opens up and swallows me permanently. I’d be a coward to get a shovel and bury myself but every inch of me is tempted to do so sometimes. But that won’t be necessary. Other people are already digging up for everyone else. Eventually, I’ll fall into a grave for good. Everyone’s headed there, why the rush.

For the meantime, while I try to debug my life, there’s this face for the rest of the world, and there’s an entire galaxy of deeper things within myself that is best kept there for its own good.

And I will never have to share my milky way to anybody in this life, my past life, or the next life. Or the afterlife.

The things I shall leave on the outside for the rest of the world to devour and attack is a tiny patch of earth, a tiny speck of dust, a molecule.

Except when I write. ‘Cause when I write, I cannot really lie about the lens with which I see the world. But those are just words.

And sometimes, words are enough.



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