Sense of fairness
I cooked dinner today. Studied the entire afternoon and then took a break to cook dinner. Everyone loved it.
I do so much for others. I almost never deny anything to anyone. Why do I do it? Am I waiting for some kind of reward? Sometimes I think I am. I believe that, inside, I have never grown up. I still think like a child. "If I behave, if I do things just like people want me to, then they will like me more.". Because, if it is true that sometimes I do things because I hope to be rewarded, it is also true that the only reward I wait for, most of the time, is not a material one. And now that I think about it... it's not really like that. I don't do things thinking about what I can get in return. Whenever someone asks me something my answer is automatically affirmative. I don't know why. Then, sometimes, I ponder and slowly refuse. But I very rarely do so.
I think that I have this intrinsic need to please everyone around me. And when I do it, I do it willingly, I'm not waiting for anything to come back to me. It is only later, when I come home after helping everyone I could, when I enter my bedroom and lie down on my bed, it is only then, in the silence, that I wonder why no one has ever done the same for me. And I don't regret anything that I did. They didn't deserve it? Well, what does it matter.
I suffer because I have this fantastic sense of fairness. However, the world is not fair. I keep looking at my life and repeating to myself "this is not fair; what did I do to deserve this when all I ever wanted was to be happy?"... And yes, all I ever wanted was to be happy. More than that, I always tried to be the best person possible. I did, really, everything I could. I know I did all I could not to disappoint you. And I also know I failed. And I guess that's what hurts more.
Sometimes I think that I was not the only one responsible; that the fact that you kept repeatedly disappointing me had to have some influence too. But does it matter? You're not revolving yourself in your bed, wondering who was responsible, you don't crave for answers, you don't cry for so long that your pillow looks like it has been out in the rain. No, I'm the one who is still wondering, I'm the one who is still trying to find out what could have been different, what could I have done differently. I'm the one who is still waiting for you to answer, even though nothing you can possibly say now can erase what you did to me two weeks ago. How could you do that? That question echoing in my head... How could you do that?
And I remember your words... «I know that no one likes me as much as you do. I know that possibly no one will ever like me more than you do. I know I'm a very important person to you. You are a very important person to me too. I love you, I do. You just have to be patient.» "I've been patient so far, haven't I?" «You were.» I remember the kiss that followed.
How could you do it?
I do so much for others. I almost never deny anything to anyone. Why do I do it? Am I waiting for some kind of reward? Sometimes I think I am. I believe that, inside, I have never grown up. I still think like a child. "If I behave, if I do things just like people want me to, then they will like me more.". Because, if it is true that sometimes I do things because I hope to be rewarded, it is also true that the only reward I wait for, most of the time, is not a material one. And now that I think about it... it's not really like that. I don't do things thinking about what I can get in return. Whenever someone asks me something my answer is automatically affirmative. I don't know why. Then, sometimes, I ponder and slowly refuse. But I very rarely do so.
I think that I have this intrinsic need to please everyone around me. And when I do it, I do it willingly, I'm not waiting for anything to come back to me. It is only later, when I come home after helping everyone I could, when I enter my bedroom and lie down on my bed, it is only then, in the silence, that I wonder why no one has ever done the same for me. And I don't regret anything that I did. They didn't deserve it? Well, what does it matter.
I suffer because I have this fantastic sense of fairness. However, the world is not fair. I keep looking at my life and repeating to myself "this is not fair; what did I do to deserve this when all I ever wanted was to be happy?"... And yes, all I ever wanted was to be happy. More than that, I always tried to be the best person possible. I did, really, everything I could. I know I did all I could not to disappoint you. And I also know I failed. And I guess that's what hurts more.
Sometimes I think that I was not the only one responsible; that the fact that you kept repeatedly disappointing me had to have some influence too. But does it matter? You're not revolving yourself in your bed, wondering who was responsible, you don't crave for answers, you don't cry for so long that your pillow looks like it has been out in the rain. No, I'm the one who is still wondering, I'm the one who is still trying to find out what could have been different, what could I have done differently. I'm the one who is still waiting for you to answer, even though nothing you can possibly say now can erase what you did to me two weeks ago. How could you do that? That question echoing in my head... How could you do that?
And I remember your words... «I know that no one likes me as much as you do. I know that possibly no one will ever like me more than you do. I know I'm a very important person to you. You are a very important person to me too. I love you, I do. You just have to be patient.» "I've been patient so far, haven't I?" «You were.» I remember the kiss that followed.
How could you do it?