(no subject)
ive cried a pail for the past half hour, and my eyes are nearly dry from sobbing. im so upset about what my uncle had just told me. this man is a slave to his wallstreet job, but manages to slip in a phone conversation with me to his schedule. i answered his out-of-boredom phone call, not expecting that i will get tortured by his jokes that weren't just half-meant. i hate the fact that i dont have the ability to be directly angry at him. instead, i am angry at the type of person that he is: a slave to Nasdaq, to the American dream, to bills, to man's whips.
i am gasping for air, i am crying like a five-year-old who had been spanked for enjoying herself too much under the sun, in the sand box. i would hate to have someone watch me sob right now, i look awful and the color of the tip of my nose suits the season well. he says i should get a real job now, or ill never get a real job ever.
is it my fault that i care more for things that last? is it not true that i have paid off all my debts, am fed all the three meals that my body is due, and that i have enough currency to pull me through? is it my fault that i dont believe in hoarding for myself so that i can get ahead? is it my fault that i dont believe in vouchsafing for myself because i would rather be a channel that distributes resources equitably? this is what i do, and i dont believe in having to disclose every point and detail of the things that i do...especially those i do for others. i am happy when i know i please the one true God that i love, and the world need not know how i go about with the "pleasing Him" thing. this is what i do, this is who i am... and i will forever find myself in this trap -- families and family friends telling me that i can do better, that they would pay ME to become a lawyer, that my mother's and deceased grandfather's happiness will skyrocket to the heavens (as their wealth did in the 80s) if i jumped in the political arena, too.
writing feels good. i am breathing better now. i am pathetic. am i pathetic? no, i know im not. there are way too many souls needing help, and i am only but one of the few people who are willing to dedicate their lives to physically, mentally and emotionally straining themselves so that the world will know that the truth is truth, and the truth is the cure to reality.
i am deeply hurt, but it's times like these that i know where my heart really is. i know the eternal gains of it all. and no, i will never tell my uncle that unlike me, he is useless. if he was systematically born to be the egocentric rich man that reminds me of who i DONT want to be, then so be it. that's his use his worth. i just like, love, my role better.
i am gasping for air, i am crying like a five-year-old who had been spanked for enjoying herself too much under the sun, in the sand box. i would hate to have someone watch me sob right now, i look awful and the color of the tip of my nose suits the season well. he says i should get a real job now, or ill never get a real job ever.
is it my fault that i care more for things that last? is it not true that i have paid off all my debts, am fed all the three meals that my body is due, and that i have enough currency to pull me through? is it my fault that i dont believe in hoarding for myself so that i can get ahead? is it my fault that i dont believe in vouchsafing for myself because i would rather be a channel that distributes resources equitably? this is what i do, and i dont believe in having to disclose every point and detail of the things that i do...especially those i do for others. i am happy when i know i please the one true God that i love, and the world need not know how i go about with the "pleasing Him" thing. this is what i do, this is who i am... and i will forever find myself in this trap -- families and family friends telling me that i can do better, that they would pay ME to become a lawyer, that my mother's and deceased grandfather's happiness will skyrocket to the heavens (as their wealth did in the 80s) if i jumped in the political arena, too.
writing feels good. i am breathing better now. i am pathetic. am i pathetic? no, i know im not. there are way too many souls needing help, and i am only but one of the few people who are willing to dedicate their lives to physically, mentally and emotionally straining themselves so that the world will know that the truth is truth, and the truth is the cure to reality.
i am deeply hurt, but it's times like these that i know where my heart really is. i know the eternal gains of it all. and no, i will never tell my uncle that unlike me, he is useless. if he was systematically born to be the egocentric rich man that reminds me of who i DONT want to be, then so be it. that's his use his worth. i just like, love, my role better.