hear my song.
20090415 - 00:19
I hate being wrong. It's clear that it is undesired to be so by many, but I despise the feeling to the very core. It's a state of mind to me. One that I scorn at being.
I give a lot to what I do. Whatever I do. Most importantly, I stay honest. In whatever I do. Not in the honesty is the best policy kinda way, but in an inherently sincere disposition kinda way. Regardless the venture, be it the work, relationships of any kind, personal deeds of sorts, I stay and be honest to myself foremostly. I believe that in being so the effort gushed will be duly just and well, honest. Not so much a satisfaction but a belief that by being honest I can do right. I can be right. Care less for the results, for in being so the results and outcome will most certainly oblige. Or so I thought.
By doing so I think rationally. I'm reasonable. I'm logical. I'm rather diplomatic. I look at both sides of the fence. Over the fence, under it, top, bottom, front, back. I see things at a larger picture. A larger scope. A larger context. Cos that's just who I am to fact. Quote by quote, point by point, I see things by reason. I need reasons. With reason I get purpose. With purpose I get cause. And with cause I react. I need answers to respond. That's how I work. That's how I see. Directly and indirectly. Don't make sense to you.? Absolutely fine. I'm just being honest. With myself.
By doing so I risk being taken for granted. I despise that word too, moreover being treated as such. Does having the tendency to understand things denote you as an understanding person.? To push the question further, the denotion of being nice. I retort with a big big no. Understanding the wrong in things does not make you any more wrong. Knowing and comprehending the fault in me or thee simply gives the advantage of doing better. At doing the right. It doesn't mask the emotions and sentiments, that can never be second guessed. With that I generate trust and loyalty from my understanding, my comprehension. I be nice. I be honest.
By doing so I become indecisive. Some people are resolute in their thinking, clear cut in their decisions and desires whatever they may be based on. Perhaps judged as the stronger and clearer minded people, I refute as being indecisive and personally challenged in decision-based issues does not necessarily make you any weaker nor any more dense. Just cos I see things in grey doesn't make the world black and white. Vice versa. No doubt this will shadow me and prowl behind my every action or non-action rather, but hey, I'm just being honest. With myself.
By doing so I become different. Not so much in a green pea on a white plate kinda way, but I stand out loosely. As a matter of fact, I revel in being different. Always have been, always will be. Not so much a manifesto nor life or death policy manner, but I have the tendency of just being so. It's not like I make it a freaking struggle to break free from who I really am or what I really like simply to be different, it's just the way it is. The way I am. The way I are. People may accuse all they want, people may intrude to influence or sneer due to disparities. I could care less about other people caring more about me being unlike other people than themselves. I can take it. I can take it all. I'm just being fucking honest.
And yet. I somehow feel that I'm wrong.
I make mistakes. I'm not perfect. Point taken. Dissatisfaction overwhelms me though. When the problem can perhaps be solved by just being dishonest in the first place. Or when the problem may perhaps not be a problem at all. Maybe I won't feel like such an asshole and look like one whenever I pass the mirror. Neither would it mend the wounds that skin my skin and will carry with me from now till forever. Perhaps it's rather justified after all to cry like you never see sunset before. Nevertheless, my fibre and soul has been scattered all over thee that I can't help but exhaust and feel the way I'm feeling. I simply prod deeper. It brings the very best and worst in me.
Truth to be told my classifieds have always remained under my wraps to my disclosure upon my discretion. I'll feel safer. Critics supposedly are filtered, and selected. But how can I do so when the requirements are all so jargoned and contradictive. To impress oneself or to impress manyselves. Amass the fact that oneself becomes impressed solely by the impression of others. By simply suppressing, opinions and perceptions will not have to be dealt with so explicitly at the risk of prodding further. I need not be perturbed for I have more than enough to pore over from myself. Things that concern me should somehow or rather be of my concern only. I, by some means become my own worst enemy, or friend.
Having said that, I'll persist, but I'll know when to release. I'll erase. I'll delete. But I won't empty the recycle bin. I need no sympathy, I simply need time.
I demanded honesty, honesty is what I got. I appreciate the honesty, but the honesty in return did not. Honesty became me, and in due, honesty reduced me. Strike three, I'm out.
And I'll never whine again.