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I haven't been able to sleep before 5 a.m. for the past three days or so.
As a rule, I become pensive toward the end of the year. However, this year, my thoughts have taken a turn for the worse, being subjugated by a flood of memories from the past year. Memories, not of happy times, but of incidents I do not wish to recall:
I remember how I fell completely in love with Olesya. A love that would, in time, take me hostage, utterly consuming my soul, eating me from the inside out; only to leave me lachrymose in the darkness. It hurt - not just in the mind, not merely in the imagination - it rent me asunder and obliterated every last shred of hope I had in human empathy. It remains within me, like an old disease, emerging periodically to rain pain and anguish on an already broken spirit.
I remember how I helped a good number of friends, be it with homework, projects or simply their errands. Oftentimes, I found myself accomplishing the bulk of it, sometimes sacrificing my entire day or hours of sleep to see it through. Save for a word of thanks, I received nothing else - which I am perfectly fine with, I am always happy to help a friend. However, I am noticing that most (if not all) exploit this weakness - I have people who have not spoken to me in weeks, even months, approach me for help, to which I consent. As it is, it looks as if more than 70% of the people I know continue to maintain ties with me due to my apparent usefulness. I ask myself repeatedly, do I still want to be in contact with these people after the New Year?
I remember how I remembered the birthdays of individual parishioners, always presenting them with gifts on that special day, only to be completely neglected by my own people (save for godmother) when it came to my birthday. It was the Catholics, the "schismatic heretics of the West" whose company I was warned not to enjoy too often, who remembered.
I remember how my various classes consider me interesting, enthralling even - but would abandon me to skulk at the "loser wall", should a dance or any function be held.
I remember how I severed ties with someone, who was openly blasphemous and critical of my beliefs, only to be accused to prejudice and intolerance. It was difficult, but it had to be done. Charitable as I can be toward different people, flagrant disrespect toward my morals, the saints and the Church will not be tolerated. This decision was not an easy one, and it continues to remain a thorn in my side.
I remember how certain individual white people were always forthright and direct (blatant at times) with me, but reacted surprisingly indignantly when I did the same.
I remember how I was invited by an ex-schoolmate to his place this Friday, supposedly to reminisce old times and engage in entertaining conversation. The night, however, was spent with him glued to his computer, bewitched by that wretched idol, DotA as I waited for hours, being relegated to the position of 'furniture'. I remember how I missed the last bus and spent 45 minutes walking home.
I remember how I am being constantly described as "too nice". Now, as these thoughts overwhelm my mind, I wonder if I should resolve to change. The world lacks nice people, I am told, and I finally know why.
Niceness is simply not worth the time; niceness is almost always paid with scorn and disdain - gratitude is a luxury many of us can ill afford these days. Why would anybody want an despised job with little benefits and much work? It's so much more rewarding to have few friends and be nasty rather than be nice and be exactly in the same situation. Indeed, why should I continue to make the effort?
Why do I continue to befriend these hypocrites? Why do I continue to sell myself shamelessly? Why do I continue to win the Doormat of the Year award?
I used to be able to put this behind me, either ignoring these people or inventing excuses for them. After the entire episode with Olesya, things haven't quite been the same. I used to be depressed once or twice a year. Now, I am depressed with more frequency, relapsing every other month, yet save for complaining and gorging myself silly with chocolate, I have done little to remedy it. I am, however, readying myself to take drastic measures.
I now make a request - pray for me. If you find that too complicated a request, one could choose to send me Prozac - lots of them, and preferably coated with chocolate.