On being mature

On some days, I wish I was a kid again.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t miss being small and having to stand tip toe (or climb up a chair) every time I wanted to reach the cookies, but I wish I could still say “I don’t know” and get away with it. I hate having to know so many things and worrying about things like making sure the bills and rent are paid on time, eating properly (fibre, vitamins, protein, carbohydrates, keeping the calories and cholesterol low), getting enough sleep and actually being responsible.

And lately, I’m starting to hate not offending people. I think I’ve always been polite, but there are days when I wish I could still stick my tongue out at them, yell “Yarghhh! I don’t like you” and run off. I wonder how this whole business of not liking people got so complicated. Why can’t some people just let go, accept the fact that I don’t like them, and no, I’m not interested in keeping in touch.

I guess this post stems mostly from my recently opened Facebook account. I have to admit that I’m surprised myself at how fast it’s grown, and as a result, a lot of people whom I had half-forgotten have been contacting me. Some of them are old friends who’ve moved on to different places in life and hearing from them again is a warm delight. Some are just people who’ve walked different paths, but somehow or other, stumbled back into mine. And when you don’t have a good history with them, you can’t help but wonder what they really want.

A part of you wants to welcome them back into your life with open arms and laughter. But another part of you, darker and primal, something that’s been rotting at the bottom of the ocean floor for eons, old when Atlantis was still young and unpopulated, is unable to do so. And this has always been my bane- forgiving. I hate the fact that I can stay angry for so very long, even after the actual memory of events that transpired has faded and is forgotten. It’s really not about what you did, or they did, but what you felt and still feel. And the fact that a request over Facebook can bug me so much shows how much further I’ve still got to go.

There’s a saying that the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Over time, I’ve become indifferent towards some people, but there are still a few out there who know how to push my buttons. I don’t want to be consciously indifferent anymore- I just want to move on and forget. For my sake.