The farce that is human relations

I've always prided myself on the fact that I speak whatever's on my mind. Noone else seems to like that particular quality of mine. Especially those who have been on the receiving end of my not so pleasant free speaking.

More importantly I hate those people who are so sweet on the surface and they're probably thinking "I wish someone would just kill her". They tell you stories of their childhood and then they tell the significant person in your life how terrible a person you are. In your absence of course.

One can cope with an enemy as long as he or she is before one. But how does one fight guerrilla warfare?

An enemy that attacks you when you are weakest. When you least expect it. And destroys what is most precious to you. Destroys that which is your strength.

And an enemy, who then in broad daylight claims to be your friend. If not friend, your well wisher.

These entangled human relations get to you. What do you do when your own blood turns against you?

Nobody is making a claim here that you are the most perfect individual that ever walked this earth. But you are most certainly not the worst.

In time, gradually one learns to recognise the farce that is human relations

Choices are mere illusions

Choices are mere illusions. A helpless hapless individual. Somehow everyone else decides the course of your life for you. You are unmanageable, they say. We cant trust you they say. You can't look after yourself. You're not responsible enough.
You need to make a career. You need to become someone.
Do all this but don't get out of the house. Don't meet people. Stay away from fun. We would like it best if we knew for sure your miserable. Don't even think of falling in love.

You are too opinionated. Difficult to handle. To control. You have too short a fuse. Do something about that temper of yours. You make it difficult for people to love you, to trust you, to be with you.

Never mind all this. Are you not aware of the fact I will see no logic? You will have to live according to our traditions.

If I am half as bad as you make me out to be then I am a hazard to myself. Get me away from me. Tear me apart. Make me your little prized possession. That mute, lifeless doll.
Finally when you think I am ripe and ready give me off to some inebriated, chauvinistic, desperate, well oiled, well lubricated, thriving on pornography, disgusting pervert. For the rest of my miserable life I will be miserable in his arms. Or at his feet.

Teenage angst

As a teenager: I wanna live life my way.

Parents reply with: You will do as we say

In your twenties now: I can do as I please. You can't tell me what to do anymore. I can make my choices and my mistakes myself now. And learn on my own.

Parents: O no you won't. Where did you get such an idea from? I (parents are one entity right) shall decide what you do, who you will marry and then after marriage your husband will decide what is best for you. I will decide because I know better and I have more experience. I am wise. I do not let emotions control my actions. I think ahead and, most importantly, I want the best for you.

Twenty something retorts: Don't you think it's time I learn things myself? You wish the best for me. I am aware of that. But somewhere I need to learn to survive outside this cocoon of your shelter. Your care. Your love.
I need to breathe as a seperate person.
I need to cut the umbilical cord.
Maybe I will mess things up. Maybe I will be a failure. But the mess, the failure will be mine. All mine.

Isn't my life my own?