Today marks the beginning of the realisation of a phase that I’ve been in for the longest time.
I’m fed up.
No, it’s not the job, that’s pretty sweet. It’s not the daily grind of commuting in a city befitting the status of a war zone and it’s not the standard of living in the shadow of a dystopian, scumbag government either. I’ve made my peace with these elements a long time ago. After all, what else would you expect from someone who wakes up each morning anticipating an alien invasion?
I’m fed up of people. I’m fed up of listening. I’m fed up “being there” for them. I’m fed up of hearing their sordid tales of their daily existence. I’m fed up of being accommodating of their idiosyncrasies. I have had enough and I can’t have any more. I’ve reached a point where my relationship with people is borderline toxic because I’ve had it with being the foil to everyone’s drama and I want out.
Having said that, I’m in the process of culling the unnecessary whining and noise. So don’t be surprised if you don’t see me on Facebook, have access to my tweets only due to retweets from others, and can’t view me on Foursquare, Instagram or the social network of the du jour. Oh and don’t get appalled if I don’t reply to WhatsApp messages, texts, emails or even pick up the phone.
It’s funny how the dynamics of modern day communication make me want to crawl into my shell rather than be more open to listening. Good thing the block and report as spam buttons exist. It seems like the best way to clean out the mess I’ve gotten myself into thoroughly. Fun.
Now listening to: Bonobo – Kiara