What do you want from me
I never was that much of a generous kid. I hated sharing things, especially if they belonged to me and not some borrowed item or a hand-me-down from mom or dad.
Kind? Sure, call me that. I'd help an old lady cross the street out of generosity, and because elders deserve better.
Remember when us teens/millennials have had nothing but received beef and infamy from the older generations?
I own up to the stereotype adults view us: stubborn, rebellious, and cranky. God damn, I know I deserve those qualities since I'm not kind to others, but could you not rub it in?
Anyway, point is, I still can't quite get why people expect me to be the kindest motherfucker in the planet when they've done nothing to help me prepare for a teenage life where almost everyone doesn't give a shit about your kindness.
I mean, all my friends are assholes.
Nathan's an asshole.
Johann's an asshole.
Oh, and Hannah's an asshole.
Some dudes are assholes.
Everybody's an asshole. But, just because they're assholes doesn't mean you can't at least try to see past that single wall of asshole-ery and see what is inside them.
That's something the older generations have plaintively neglected to reconsider when judging us millennials. Like come on man, don't be so judgemental.
If you give people a chance, you might just see that in the long run—the favor's already been returned.
But, I have certain sets of preferences for certain sets of people around my environment.
For instance:
a) I hate my town. The End.
I'm willing to offer them my requited hatred, which had been doused with a thousand neglect and abandonment that I had accumulated since I reached puberty.
Burn this hell-hole into a million ashes.
b) I'll pay the price if it means the safety of whom I truly trust.
Yeah, sounds mushy. I know.
But really, if I ever stumble upon the single most kind-hearted, understanding and down-to-earth motherfucker in this planet (boy or girl, don't matter, though girls I'd definitely smash +10) then they deserve as much of what I can offer.
I'm not asking them to consider my sacrifice if they asked for it; I'll do what must be done if it means the motherfuckin' best for me and them.
Is that enough, though?
What do you want for me
I try my earnest effort to succeed in my pursuit of being a well-deserving and trustful friend, in return to whomever I see deserves my trust.
To what extent do I do that, though?
Well, not exactly that much; I'd get them ice-cream, but I wouldn't ever bring them on a trip to some expensive outing, like Singapore or that cool spot somewhere in China. Can't remember the place.
But no matter what choices I make, and to what extent I can muster before I throw a fit or something, my friends are still human.
And humans are prone to emotion.
They can get concerned. Worried. Bothered.
Us, as humans (to hell if you're an alien), are pretty resilient when it comes to handling emotions and breakdowns; we adapt to a lot of situations, hence the reason why we need to suppress our emotions in order to asses the situation first. Somebody's crying? Calm that bitch down. Hurt? Put a bandage on that motherfucker.
But everything has a limit (except for my hatred towards this town).
People can cry, and people can be bothered, and people can worry.
Sometimes, when the situation manifests into a dangerous grey pang and clouds the person with dread and worry, emotions can turn into a fucking minefield.
Okay, enough of this aristocratic poetry bullshit. Let's get straight to the point:
My friends aren't just gods or goddesses who I must offer all my fruit to—they're also humans just as I am, and I can't just continue to offer myself to them indefinitely.
I need a godamn break as well.
Why
I don't know.
Answers to many things are usually just "pretend", y'know? You think you've figured out how to fix your personal issue? Well guess what, that's just the result of your brain deducing the simplest and least strenuous solution so that you no longer have to wallow in that self-pity and worry anymore.
We like to take shortcuts, believe me. It's why I keep blaming this hell-hole of a town instead of actually considering what makes my brain go "fuck-you" to the population.
Sometimes, you start your day all wonderful and stuff. You brush your teeth, dress, do shit. Then all of a sudden rain comes out of nowhere, and it starts pouring down like motherfuckers descending from heaven to fuck you up for sinning. And sometimes, it's pretty hard to stay positive during those days.
So we pretend to be happy. We pull our weakest smile, puff our chest out and sit on our couch or lay in bed, or whatever, and try our earnest best to stay positive. You know why?
Sometimes, we just... do.
Maybe we do it in front of our friends so we don't have to worry saving face when they start mocking us about our "fuck-my-day" face. Or even perhaps because we like to pretend that pretending can ultimately be the only tool that fixes our nuisances in life.
But hey. At the end of the day, nothing beats the shit out of meditating to rock music.