People just don’t get it do they?
When I’m not available, not around, I’m busy with the things that are obligatory to be done. It’s part of the job I’m in. Part of the trail of assignments that I’m obliged to complete.
When I’m around, it’s either talk about the too much yarn I’ve bought, the too many things that are still clattered and not kept in the new cupboards, the ridiculous big things that I create for assignment purposes (which tend to be those that I would like to keep for future use as well — things are always recyclable to me), or the materials that I bring back from the more than 1 semester of being cooped up in my own space free to create whatever is necessary for me to succeed.
Isn’t there other things to talk about? It’s like the same as what he is always complaining about. What difference does it make, really.
I had the space, the time to think, the freedom to express my anguish, my thoughts my troubles. But when I’m back, I feel like as if no one is listening sometimes, yet they don’t get it. They think I’m throwing a tantrum, not doing what I said I would. I’m at home, why can’t I be more myself, with the space that I have at home? Because it’s home, I’m to feel safer, aren’t I? But why I do I keep feeling threatened sometimes, like as if I think too much. I can’t say too much of what I think, because they are regarded as irrelevant, rebellious. There’s no one seemingly on the same frequency. I get the feeling that I’m questioned, about whatever that I’m intending to do.
What I do know is this. I usually do as I deem fit to do at that point of time and try to make the most of it, which is why I cannot do things or promise to do things ahead — even my own assignments. I don’t want to regret not having been able to accomplish what I said I would. It’s not easy to understand me somehow. How else can I say it? Only people whom have been there would be able to get, won’t they?
Maybe like those who share the same troubles that I do. So many things have happened in campus. Too much stress. It’s the only time I can escape from that now, if only for these 2 days. But I’m still pressured here. Pressured with other expectations, which are not even graded for. So I don’t know what or who or why anymore.
It’s like I’d rather shut myself away from it, since I don’t have the allocated space I have in campus anymore. Not everything I say gets heard anyway. I don’t know.
It’s like what my classmates shared about during that last session of educational psychology. There are people who will really take mundane comments personally, too personally that they can’t accept some of them. To they point where they start questioning themselves whether they’re good enough. Why is it that they can’t accomplish that particular task.
Now I’m claimed to be ungrateful.
But who actually listens to my share with just a plain listening ear? Without imposing any expectations. Without imposing thoughts and opinions. Sharing is alright. But not when it feels as if a threatened sort of sharing, that I’m supposed to accept whether I like it or not. I don’t even know what I’m typing anymore.
Maybe it’s all gibberish. What’s the meaning of me being here anyway?
Bye.
