Unworthy
I am weary of the world. I am not complaining. I’m sorry if it sounds like I am but I’m not…at least I don’t want to…because I believe I don’t have the right to. Now that I think about it, I don’t have the right to anything.
As I was walking home, I noticed that I was looking down again. I remembered someone asked me why I walk that way. I thought of an answer for this as I continued walking with my head bent down. I thought that maybe it’s because I live in the moment. I take a journey one step at a time. I don’t like looking too far ahead since making plans often confuses and disheartens me. Looking ahead often complicates my already complex and chaotic world. Then, on another journey, I stumbled upon yet another answer…
I am weary of the world and you will see it in my eyes, my face as I walk if one would bother to look…but who would?! I am not worth looking at. I am unworthy of even the slightest attention. Which probably explains why until now I still don’t have an S.O…ah, an S.O…one of the few things I’d want for myself. But I understand that this is too much to ask for the moment (or maybe forever…given the fact that I always like guys who like someone else, someone I can never be) so a little serenity will do. Apparently I am unworthy of such luxury as well. Just when I was thanking God (literally) for giving me a taste of one of the few things I “ask” for, reality intrudes and wreaks havoc…and I’m back to “this rampant chaos called reality.” There goes one of the few things I would want to ask for but never really manage to muster up the courage to do so. Well, any sensible being might say that it’s no wonder I don’t get what I want since I never really asked for them. Well, forgive me for being so badly deluded into believing that I am not worthy of asking for anything…all the more of having anything…anything but blame that is. So feel free to be generous. It’s all I can have at the moment so why not take all that I can? Why not use up my share so that I won’t have to take any more in the future. That is, assuming I do have one…if I am worthy of having one (with the one I actually want to share it with?)…
I am even unworthy of tears. Sometimes, if the heavens are feeling generous, I may be able to shed a tear or two. Oftentimes, I have to pour out my misery on the form of words. And even with these, I am still unworthy. If I don’t jot them down right away, they disappear into oblivion leaving me with nothing but abstract, chaotic misery. Just like today…I pour them out in words and try to remember the words but now that I’m typing, the words are all mucked up!
Ah there! What luck! Frabjous day! I have spent the two teardrops I am allowed for this petty misery of mine. I now have to resume my role as the sociable chatterbox. Time to borrow that smile I was wearing when Ram was around…so that people won’t be disturbed that I am unusually quiet. Here we go. Let the masquerade continue!
