A blog bit of melodrama

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Today I woke up nice and early, ready to work, ready to seize the day. I opened my computer and started looking at my RSS feeds and burst out crying. I’m not PMS-ing, nothing cry-worthy has happened.

I hate it when I get emotional for no good reason. It makes me more upset than the actual reason for which I may be crying. My persistent efforts to remind myself how lucky I am and how strong I am (or should be) help me not complain about anything and reinforce that I have no reason to be upset. Over the last year or so, I have been a sponge, absorbing many strenuous conversations of friends with “real” issues; issues in light of which my “issues” are so stupid.

So if I feel low I don’t really let anyone know; putting things in perspective makes me feel ludicrous about my emotions. I lift myself up by realizing that compared to other people’s mountain size problems, my so called problems are not even the size of an ant. So I shut them down and distract myself by taking a walk or going dancing.

I think that mindset, although most of the time holds, occasionally cracks to reveal a weak and vulnerable me, a me that I feel has no right or reason to surface, a me that I’m embarrassed to show to friends, a me that only my family will understand.

To add to that, what I think is only now rising from deep inside my subconscious is: nothing I am doing in my life really matters. Not to me, not to the people in my life, not to the world. All my time and energy is being spent unwisely; my ability to contribute, my immense capability to give, is being wasted.

It’s a strange feeling of being deep and hollow at the same time. I don’t like it. I don’t want to talk about it. As is stands, it’s frivolous and until I can add more context to it or come up with a solution, it’s a pointless conversation.

All these ridiculous and uncalled for emotions have resulted in me being selfish with the strangers or acquaintances I have been meeting these days. Just like I’m selfish when I write on this blog.

It’s easier to let your guard down with random people because you really don’t care how they feel (you hardly know them), and they — for some reason — want to know how you feel. It is them whose time you are willing to take without worrying about the time you give them. How messed up is that.

I suppose, as I’ve written about before, sometimes you just need a cry.

Anyway, I feel better after writing this. To anyone who has bothered to read through — thank you. Now I will get back to work.

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