Weird. I can’t live for others. I thought I could so I have tried to be what they want me to be. A child, a sibling, an adult, a student, social, happy. Independent, strong, patient and quiet, speak your mind, listen. Good at this, good at that. Not too good though because that’s bad. Hold the door, think of others. Treat others the way you’d like to treated, right? Not right. No, no, no.
I’ve spent time waiting for others’ convenience, but I can’t do it alone. That’s not how the system works. Or should work. If you see someone waiting don’t push yourself ahead of them. It’s easier to get in anyway if people getting off, well, get off the transport. It’s alright to proceed in an orderly fashion. Still there’s always that someone who’s too busy to see me. It’s hurtful to try and make life slightly easier for others only to get punched in the face for doing that.
But I can’t stop holding doors. I can’t stop helping. I don’t know what’s there for me left if I stop interacting with others the way I do now. People are scary, but there’s something soothing about being a polite stranger. Can you just be a polite stranger to me too? Or alternatively teach me to act… No, no acting. Teach me to be less impulsive with people I think I know…
One day 