Tired of this operetta: whose fault was it and who betrayed who? Sometimes you just wanna walk onto the pier to see huge cranes standing side by side, hanging above the muddy waters.
Last thursday was Mayday, which, if you're not familiar with the concept, is basically just another excuse for taking a day off and getting piss drunk. This year four people got killed, one of which was some angstful 14-year old who decided to end her life by falling from a nearby balcony. I'd never actually seen a dead body, so it was quite a shocker to catch a glimpse of what the grotesquely human-shaped sheet was hiding on the ground. This shape, with its arms twisted from the fall, face pale and lifeless, had an eerie resemblance to the young girl who'd got it into her head to end it right there and then. Didn't do much to lighten the mood.
I realized the true nature of too many people that night. You'd think, by the shit I write, that I'm a cynical bastard with no real grasp of reality. Albeit a bit ashamed to admit it, I do have a humane side. Ironically it's also my biggest handicap: I ultimately care about the wellness of people. I rather naïvely expect others to do the same. Which gets me into a kind of pickle when I run into someone focused entirely on playing people.
That night I decided to become a cold blooded deadpan cynic, so I might get atop this awkward pattern. This lasted for about two days, when I figured that it was not my place to become an (even more) insensitive ass. I mean, fuck that. I've adjusted and I gladly will adjust huge lengths to meet new people, but empathy is something I'm not going to give up. If I'll end up forever single this way, then so be it.
I'm not sleeping alone tonight. As the knight in the shining Bavaria, I went to fetch someone in danger of becoming a victim of domestic violence. Certainly, being the perfect gentleman, the mere thought of taking advantage of the situation hasn't crossed my mind. Poor thing.
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