When It Hits The Fan

The lesson I've learnt in the past few weeks:

Shit can fall from anywhere and when you least expect it. And when it does, it usually lands all over the place, soiling your otherwise perfect little life and your fresh-as-white-linen perceptions of the world around you.

just when you think you have everything figured out, crap hits the fan.

maybe it's because they know we can take it. and by "taking it", i mean "sucking it up and making it a non-issue". i might joke that i have a blinking sign in loud neon letters screaming "Shit Here Please" on my forehead, but judging by my past experiences, i might as well have been the person hammering that very signboard onto my own head.

i dont do confrontational. when things go bad, i usually take my bruised feelings with me to bed. when i wake up the next morning, the world will always feel like a slightly better place. i might try to throw a little pity-party by indulging in the "dont-worry-it's-not-you" charity doled out by friends, but i hardly ever make my real feelings known to the one whose words/actions had hit too close to home.

i think it's because i'd never thought being honest about such things would work. feeble attempts in the past have gotten me nowhere. if no one listens, i'd rather keep my feelings to myself than get myself into more trouble. and so the evil cycle continues. i get crapped on, i clean up the ensuing mess, i get crapped on again. it has happened one time too many very probably because i allow it to.

and when things get like this, you can forgive but the sure as hell, the heart never forgets. and the heart remembers because the hurt eats into you, and bores little holes that remind you of the disappointment and sadness that you were made to feel.

honestly i thought it would be different this time. i guess i thought wrong.