I dare ask, "Why?"

How easy is it to just divide your vision evenly into two halves?

No thought towards any possible third option.
And honestly, why bother?

Isn't there just the Good and the Bad?
Just Black and White?
Yes and No?
Happy and Sad?
Alive and Dead?

At 13, fresh and alive, happy and satisfied, I invited my friends over all the time.
I entertained them even when they came uninvited.
I fancied myself quite liked and likeable to be honest.



At 21, I have stopped bothering to make an effort. Yes, I still sometimes invite friends over.
Yes. I still sometimes hope to be the gullible happy child again.

But the thing is, at 21, none of my friends come over.
And at 21, I find it easier to be sad and cynical than being gullible and happy.

So what changed?
How slowly (or fast) this change happened?

Knowing what you are is very hard.

Have you ever met someone all secretive and you said to yourself, "Wow, this is one difficult person to read"?
I find that we all are that person to ourselves.

We know ourselves the best.
We know ourselves the least.

We know the important stuff about ourselves, like I like to eat fruits. Or I like to play chess.

But I don't know how hard I can be when people have to deal with me.
I don't WANT to know how utterly disliked I might be among the crowd.

We lie to ourselves constantly.
We make up a world of fiction and picture ourselves as we wish to.

"I am the prince and the world revolves around me."
"I am the funniest person around and people love to hang out with me."
"I am so gullible that people always take advantage of it"
"I do not complain, I just speak the truth."

How long, though?
there comes a point where the reality of who you are and how people actually see you is staring straight at your face and you cannot turn your face from it.
The truth has to come out.
Hence, breaks a dream.
A world dies and you are born.


For me personally, the most difficult thing to accept was that I am neither likeable nor fun.
No self pity.
No insecurities.
Just plain truth.

But it hasn't been easy.
I have spent nights after nights, awake, questioning again and again, "Why have I changed?"
"Why don't people like me any more?"
"Why am I not funny?"

I asked my friend this question, and what she said opened my eyes. For good.
"You were never funny to be honest. You were always a little serious. A little intense."

Bang.
and you crash out of your dreams.

I now see how I might have mangled with my memories, how I had deluded myself. 

Because when you are a kid, you just have two categories to fill in.

Liked

Disliked

"Barely tolerable"

"Fairly Funny"

et cectra are formed later on in life.

The two sides of a pictures are now split open and like a jigsaw, its a mess.

At 21, I do not believe that people do anything without a motive.

I would've smiled back at you four years back. 

but  today, I look at your smile,

and then quickly count the coins in my purse

the gossips in my knowledge

the jokes in my mind

the pieces of my heart

and wonder what would you want in return of  this smile?

And is smiling back worth losing one of my possessions?

At 21, I suspect too much.

I think too much.

I complicate things.

I am a cynic in most cases.

I trust no one.

I hate people easily.

I run away from the thought of love.

I believe people will hurt me and shut them out.

and the dilemma is,at 21, when I am sad and alone and bitter, I dare ask, "Why?"