Saturday, October 25, 2008

A frustrated post,when I'm actually happy o.0

We pay too much importance to pride. Ego, we prefer to call it. Sounds snappier.


Say I hate you. And you're making me work- you're stretching me beyond my limits, hoping I'll break. Already I'm taut, I'm quivering with pain and frustration. I want more than anything to give up. It wouldn't really make a difference. But it'll do one thing. Give you what you wanted. I couldn't let THAT happen, could I? My EGO couldn't tolerate seeing that smug, sadistic smile broaden over your repulsive face. 

So I carry on. Even though it's killing me, I carry on.

How the HELL does that make sense? Ego-- is it caring so much about myself, that I'd do anything to preserve my dignity; or is it caring so much about myself that I couldn't give a damn about what YOU think? Because it SHOULD be the second. If it's my EGO that's the driving force here, it should be about ME, not about you. If I want to give up, I'll give up goddamit! I want to enjoy the relaxation flooding back into my veins, I want to stretch out my limbs and feel free again. If you choose to gloat, great! I''ve made two people happy, instead of frustrating them both. 

So why can't I do that? Because I'm scared. Scared of appearing vulnerable to you. No matter how much I parade about, flaunting my individuality, I'm still a slave to public opinion. But would I accept that? Never. So I call my fear 'ego'. 

Such a convenient word. Two-syllables only. 

1 beep/s:

cry freedom said...

i SO know what u mean.