I've often asked myself why I try so hard.
As a little kid, I read books religiously and made consistently high grades so that my parents would be proud and I would have their attention. Soon, they started expecting it from me, so I got less and less of a reaction. Similarly, because they didn't seem to care as much, by the time I reached high school, I wasn't as obsessive about it.
When it came to friendships and relationships, I would always go out of my way to make others happy. I've always been the one in my group of friends that was the listener, the mediator, the one to break up all the disagreements and fights and hold everyone together.
But what did I get out of it?
A selfish question, I know. But I can't help thinking it. One of my friends in high school, I loved dearly, but I was always too shy. I still love her, although she is now far away, I wouldn't even doubt her being married by now. With all the effort I put into keeping my friends together, I defeated myself. I was the softest-spoken, and it was no secret that one or two of my friends liked her as well. And because I was the shy one, the one who does things behind the scenes, I was always ignored.
And I can't blame anyone but myself.
Why did I try so hard? Even when I saw things coming? I knew all the negative things that were happening, but I kept facilitating it because I wanted people around me to be happy and blindly hoped I would somehow be rewarded someday. I still seem to act this way. Though it's a lot harder. My college friends do different things go to different places, have different lifestyles. The only difference is now I feel like I have to fake happiness, as opposed to having hope keep me cheerful, I'm playing jester.
I guess a nice way to put it is in Alan Moore's words in Watchmen, from the speech balloon of Rorschach; "Heard a joke once: Man goes to the doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says, 'Treatment is simple. Great Clown Pagliacci is in town. Go and see him. That should pick you up.' Man bursts into tears, says, 'but doctor, I am Pagliacci.' Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on Snare Drum. Curtains."
As a little kid, I read books religiously and made consistently high grades so that my parents would be proud and I would have their attention. Soon, they started expecting it from me, so I got less and less of a reaction. Similarly, because they didn't seem to care as much, by the time I reached high school, I wasn't as obsessive about it.
When it came to friendships and relationships, I would always go out of my way to make others happy. I've always been the one in my group of friends that was the listener, the mediator, the one to break up all the disagreements and fights and hold everyone together.
But what did I get out of it?
A selfish question, I know. But I can't help thinking it. One of my friends in high school, I loved dearly, but I was always too shy. I still love her, although she is now far away, I wouldn't even doubt her being married by now. With all the effort I put into keeping my friends together, I defeated myself. I was the softest-spoken, and it was no secret that one or two of my friends liked her as well. And because I was the shy one, the one who does things behind the scenes, I was always ignored.
And I can't blame anyone but myself.
Why did I try so hard? Even when I saw things coming? I knew all the negative things that were happening, but I kept facilitating it because I wanted people around me to be happy and blindly hoped I would somehow be rewarded someday. I still seem to act this way. Though it's a lot harder. My college friends do different things go to different places, have different lifestyles. The only difference is now I feel like I have to fake happiness, as opposed to having hope keep me cheerful, I'm playing jester.
I guess a nice way to put it is in Alan Moore's words in Watchmen, from the speech balloon of Rorschach; "Heard a joke once: Man goes to the doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says, 'Treatment is simple. Great Clown Pagliacci is in town. Go and see him. That should pick you up.' Man bursts into tears, says, 'but doctor, I am Pagliacci.' Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on Snare Drum. Curtains."