Samuel Yeoh

It’s sad that people who’s company I enjoy, almost always do not feel the same way. As much as I would love to spend time with them, they can’t be bothered, except for a few. Make that two, actually.

One of whom is too busy to make much time for me anyway, and one whom, miraculously, has spared me an afternoon every week. The cynic in me is telling me to just wait for that to stop soon.

I never liked being at the mercy of others or having to beg. But my social encounters invariably come down to that. If I don’t make a move, I can forget about any social interaction at all. If I keep making a move, I become some pathetic fellow who keeps pestering others.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m just being stubborn holding on to a sinking ship. (Yeah, I know, I need to go out and get a life.)

On the other end of the spectrum, there are people who want to spend time with me, but I couldn’t care less about them. Like my family. My cousin, my parents, my grandma.

So I guess we go around in circles chasing each other.

In a twisted kind of way, it’s fair. As much as I wish I could lament and blame others, and force them to pay attention to me, those I’m treating in the exact same way are wishing the very same things.

It gets tiring after awhile. Hoping for something that you’ll never get. I really wish I could live the rest of my life a hermit. It’s such an easy and tempting solution. For now, maybe I really will, until the real world forces me to go out and interact again. Sigh.

I guess I still can’t grasp the concept of three. Or more than two, for that matter. Somehow, I instinctively treat three as an impossible situation, the only possible resolution is to reduce it to two. That’s why I usually only go out with one other person.

In resolving that perceived conflict, I tend to slink backwards and hide in the shadows. I don’t like to fight, I don’t like to compete. I’d rather just surrender and let the other two get along. Especially so if the other two start out just fine and pay little attention to me from the start. I guess it’s part of my loner instinct pulling me out of it.

It’s a silly, romantic thought, pretending that there can only be two, and me not wanting to wreck their happiness, will most willingly sacrifice. Silly indeed.

And when asked what’s wrong, I always take too long to answer, and then I say never mind. And sometimes, just when I think I should loosen up my pathetic mouth to answer, they turn away. It’s not their fault, I guess. Why should they truly care? They ask out of concern for any human being, but they’re not close enough to care like one who really cares.

Yet, deep inside, I’m screaming, wanting so badly to be understood. On the surface, I just shrug and pretend it’s no big deal. How bloody pathetic. Haha.