The Dirt

Time and time again, it happens. Then I tell myself that it probably won't happen again. And after a long time, it happens. And I get sick in the stomach.

Words - they comfort and hurt. Others have been hurt by words deemed sarcastic and hurtful, be it in an angry exchange or as a joke. I've also been hurt one too many times by the words of others that I vow never to hurt others with words. It gets rarer to be hurt by words as one gets older. Older people tend to watch their words more, having learnt from past mistakes. Friends get older too, and they tend to fool around with your feelings. And with friends whom you grow old with, they've become like brothers somewhat and you kinda surrender and just accept whatever comes your way.

I'm older now. I carefully arrange my words these days. When these carefully arranged words still get misinterpreted as, say, sarcasm, and when I get shot back with sharp words that hurt, I get sick in the stomach. Maybe I should really just stay within the four blue walls of my room and shut myself out.

"Speak good, or remain silent," may not be enough. Perhaps I should learn how to "Speak only when asked", to further minimize the chance creating misunderstandings. I rather friendships fall apart because of long period of silence than for it to be strained because of silly few exchanges of words.

Time and time again it happens. People just love to burst my comfortable bubble. They like to remind me that in life, you can try all you want to be nice but people will still do as they please. You'll still be stamped on, trampled on and hurt. So why bother be nice? Be normal. But I cant.

I guess that, is a flaw. Sigh. I guess I should tell myself that I'm like earth. People can choose to step on me and treat me as dirt, or use me to help trees grow. Or as backfill for some earth-retaining wall. (:

Dirt I will be. Be good, and pray the wind takes me some place good.