I want to be better. Better at relationships, better at academia, stronger, wittier, happier. That's human, right? We are on a constant, agonizing quest to improve ourselves.
I can be selfish. I talk too much about myself, tell too many stories. I've noticed a recurring phenomenon in my journal entries: "Shut up, don't talk so much. Listen." Listen to the stories of others, listen to what the world can offer you. Just rest your tongue on the roof of your mouth and open your ears. Yet, everyday, I am my usual talkative self. I cannot seem to relinquish my overwhelming sense of "me."
|René Magritte. The Magician (Self-Portrait with Four Arms).|
1952. Oil on canvas.
I like to take the blame because I can punish me. I was terrible at babysitting because I could never really yell at the kids, or just say no, not going to happen. I like taking every responsibility for my actions, not those of others. My fear of relationships is that I often feel that I won't find time for another person, that I won't be able to offer my mind and my concern over to another human being. I guess it's kind of an existential worry. I am a little afraid of my sense of too-much-self, if that makes sense. When I go out with someone, I find that I'm aware more of myself than the person sitting with me. I'll adjust my seating position, calculate how often I should make eye-contact, consider what I ought to say next, in which direction the conversation should flow. I like group settings, because then I feel that a pressure has been lifted from my shoulders. It shouldn't be that way.
I despise my fear of being too close to other people, and I despise my idealism, but I guess reaching out and touching my goal of being better, even with the tips of my fingers, takes time. I just wish I didn't already have this selfishness, this lust for perfection, and this love for hiding and disconnection ingrained within my personality. If I weren't human, and I could change myself with a snap of my fingers, I definitely would.