I'm not one of these people who are fond of writing.  I'm also not one of those people who really have a lot to complain about.  I am however a person who likes to reflect, and after picking at someone's brain for a long time through her blog, I figured what the hell.  It's always good to reflect, to recollect... to ponder.  As much as I may try to make this interesting, the writing intricate and enticing, I would put some money on my failure.  I must nonetheless remind myself that I'm not doing this for anyone... Only myself.

Life is unfair.  It truly is.  I am sitting here comfortably in my home wrapped up in a blanket, TV blaring next to me and I have no care in the world.  I have just finished high school.  Chemistry seemed to be a breeze, and even if it wasn't, who cares.  Wasting my time in social at college until I can get to police academy.  I have a great companion and I can't speak any evil about her, she's wonderful.  The only problem I may have with her is that she may be leaving me behind this summer.  Otherwise, everything is nice and peachy... except it's not.  I hate myself for having a carefree life.  I hate having everything great, everything my way.  My parents are great and so is my brother.  We have our share of disagreements, but nothing I can't shrug off.  I have a great job and my friends are great.  Except *they* aren't great.  It seems everyone around me is undergoing turmoils that I can't seem to understand.  I can't grasp their problems nor how to solve them.  It's infuriating to see them struggle as if they were stranded in the ocean.  As if I'm watching them from a boat with a lifejacket on my back, and yet I'm unable to undo it.

The thing about me is I'm extremely calculated.  I know how to ease myself into situations.  If I want to find out something, more often than not I can.  If I want to say something, I'll fancy it up and make it sound nice.  I hate that about myself.  How I can go out there and fish for compliments.  I can fish for compassion from people who don't know me.  I can sing a song of sorrow that entangles anyone within earshot.  I've always had a thing for manipulating people.  I've had to.  Always been somewhat of an outcast, afraid of others and shy of myself.  I cast a daily illusion to each and every individual I know.  And it's frustrating to see that as much as they "care", no one truly gives a shit.  People are all selfish.  People are just like me.  We're all the same.

Now as I go along my day, more often than not I will try to incorporate myself into someone's life.  For a few minutes, I am theirs.  I live through them, I feel their pain.  I don't know why, but I've always been that way.  I'm constantly reflecting on things of some sort and as such I find myself able to come to conclusions and solutions quite effortlessly.  My mind works in a methodical sort of way, where I can easily isolate a problem and come up with a solution.  And so when my friends unveil their problems, I can immediately come up with an answer.  I'm such a smartass.

I can see why I make people angry.  I make myself angry.  I take things too seriously, and I'm not one of those warm people.  I've conditioned myself to not react to pain.  I try to detach myself.  Am I afraid? Damn straight.  I'm a coward.  But it's much less painful this way.  But this carelessness does get to me.  Because as much as I try to help, I know that in the end, I'm just making it worse.  I'm sitting in this chair, nice and comfy while others are suffocating and pleading for help.  And I can just sit here and watch, direct them like those producers do.  So coldheartedly...

I'm getting myself carried away.... My mind really does wander, and I'm still not conditioned to these kinds of postings.  Carry on, there's nothing to see here.  Only an angry and confused little boy.