by Griffin O'Hara
I’m in a strange mood. I don’t treat people as well as I should.
This isn’t a blinding realization, or anything. Just a gentle tut-tutting of a reminder.
I feel guilt about my mistreatment occasionally. Lately, more often than not. I had a (text) conversation where I realized what an ass I was making of myself. I’m grateful the other person told me to fuck off—but they didn’t use terms as point-blank.
It’s weird how it feels like a subtle issue, but I think it’s an important one. I truly think I’m not a terrible person towards other, but I think I’ve kind of let myself slip a couple of rungs down in exchange for my own gratification.
I know I’m motivated by desire (who isn’t), but I think I forget that people are people. (Italics is a writer’s crutch, isn’t it?). I feel as though I steamroll over the people who let me get my way.
I don’t have an idea how to genuinely fix self-motivated behavior. Obviously, I can improve. But it’s just not possible to not have a conversation that isn’t about me, or to do something that isn’t for me in some way. Selfless behavior seems like a kind of fiction. I don’t know. Maybe a parent, or a person in love knows selflessness, but it doesn’t just generate on its own. Unselfish behavior is begotten with selfish behavior.
Love is fantastic. I believe in it, and in all its different varieties. I think I’ve neglected my love towards people, though.
It’s incredible how every person has a brilliant life that only they will know. It’s so weird. I love how unimportant it makes me feel, because I’m not. Not at all, and that’s a happy thought.
Two of my favorite phrases are “I don’t know,” and “what if.” I think they both say a lot about me.