The concept of actually knowing some one makes my little brain flutter with emotions.
How do you know someone? Sure, you know there favorite color, favorite foods, the things that make them happy, and even the things that they hate. But these are just things that you know of them, not necessarily them, themselves.
I know a lot of people. Well better said, I know of a lot of people. I know many things about them. Through the course of years I’ve gotten to know more and more about them. They too have grown to know of me. But do they know me?
Do they know me? No. They know the me that I let them see. They know the person I want them to see. The person they want me to be. Why? To keep them? To make them happy? To not cause any confrontations? The answer to all of these may possibly be yes.
I would like someone, at least one person, to get to know me. Not of me. Not my favorite color, nor food, or anything that describes me. I want them to know me.
In the years I have being an adult I have found that you can’t trust anyone. You can’t trust your companions, your friends, and sometimes you can’t even trust yourself.
Why is that? Why do some of us trust so easily? Oh thank you for opening the door for me, now let me tell you about my first heart break.
I don’t tend to just throw around my trust. But when I do get to meet someone that seems to understand me and see who I am, then I feel like I can trust them with secrets. I go all in. I don’t hold back. If I see in you that I can trust you, then you better be prepared.
But then again, if you break that trust. It’s down hill. I will not be able to trust as easily as I had before. What changed? Why would you betray me? How could you hurt us like that.
Trust is a huge thing. Some people have it some people don’t. Some people care for it, others just smile and nod them go off and stab you in the back.
So, this week as been a bit crazy. I have been getting up to date with friends and its so much fun. A whole lot of things have happened since the last time I saw them.
First thing is first though, Thursday, I went to the orientation for my second job. I really didn’t learn much just signed a bunch of paper work. Then after signing my life away we got a tour of the work place. It seems really chill, and I am excited to start working there. When a I got the chance of watching or shadowing someone to see what it really is that ill be doing, it seemed overwhelming. The typing I think I have down its the taking down the information when someone calls will be the difficult, but I’m a quick study.
Then yesterday I got together with an old coworker that I knew from one of my past jobs and another one of my friends. We went hiking and it was fun and we even saw a beautiful sunset right before started to rain. Then we just chit chatted at our cars for a while before going home. It was nice seeing them.
Right now I just came back from seeing another friend that I also kinda shunned out of my life a while ago. So basically this whole week I have been reconnecting with old friends.
It’s crazy how we as human beings always have to be a part of something. We always have to feel wanted. And when we don’t, the feeling of rejection feels like fire consumming up a beautiful green forest in the middle of the night. It feels like a knife slowly erupting from within the heart cutting circulation and cutting life itself. At least for me it does.
That’s pretty much how I have felt all my life. One of my main fears, if not my number one, would be, rejection. It feels awful. One of the worst feelings someone can have. Specially when all you have ever wanted was to be part of something, to be, involved.
Everyday at work the coworkers I associate the most with and I always sit at the same table. We have marked it as our table. Not literally of course but mostly everyone knows that it is where we sit on our breaks and lunches. But some times someone new or just another random employee will sit there. That won’t make my coworkers sit else where though. They will just pull up a chair and sit around them.
It may seem rude but they are polite and say hi and offer their food or snacks. Maybe we should sit somewhere else? Maybe we should get there earlier? But we don’t.
Today though was different. I got ther last and all the seats were taken. It’s a table for four, and I was number seven. I pulled up a chair and Mr. Brown who was sitting at a near by table said, “Dam man! There’s a free table right there.”
I felt really bad. Yes, I could have gone to that table and sat alone. And even though I don’t consider my coworkers friends they are still close associates I talk to. As bad as it sounds they are there to fill the empty void I would feel if I was alone.
When Mr. Brown said that, it made me feel bad. Bad that I wasn’t brave enough to sit alone. Bad that I always had that feeling of rejection in the back of my mind that I had to avoid. Bad that I always had a feeling of being wanted. Bad that I hadto sit at that table to feel part of something. Bad because I was just using them to not feel alone.
Why are people so mean? Or is it that I just live in a ghetto city? Where people don’t give a fuck about what they say or what they do? Where they don’t care how they treat people, or let alone, if they hurt them? Where they only think about themselves?
Or maybe I was raised right. I was raised to be respectful. I was raised to be kind and to care about others. To treat others the way you want to be treated. But what if you don’t get that in return? Still, I continue to be nice. Am I too good for this city? Or am I just too humble?
At work there is a wide long cold distance between girls. Some don’t talk to each other because one didn’t say hi to the other for one day. Others because they simply forgot to invited them to a work birthday lunch, then all the sudden they are sworn enemies. All this is so stupid, but why do you girls live like this? It’s almost like they like it. But when they go home do they not feel the pain that the other person must be in? Wondering why they did the things that they did?
Then there are guys who, I don’t know why, but for fun they like to say ‘fuck you’ to each other. THERE IS NO POINT IN THIS. So why do it? Then there is that masculinity bullshit. My dick this my dick that, pussy, pussy, pussy. Who cares? Well, actually, who ever does care is one stupid person with no life goals. There’s more in life than your dick dude.
I just want to meet a genuine kind person. Not someone who at first will seem like a nice lovely rose, but then turn out to have the most vicious and sharpest thorns of them all.
I wish people would be nicer. I wish people would think before they say their hurtful words. I wish people could see how their words can affect people. I wish they could change. But it’s not up to me. That’s the sad part.