Wednesday, March 19, 2008
~ 11:48 PM ~
A good friend of mine came to find me. I knew he was socially inept from the days we knew each other before, and now he told me of himself.
He felt depressed. Extremely depressed. His twenty years had been a waste, since he could not bring himself to socialise with others. The company he mixed in was limited, but he felt alive in discussions. The friendship was refined, yet he did not feel socially satisfied. At night, he weeps for his loneliness. How sorrowful it is, that you feel alive only once in a while.
His actions are queer and unintentional, yet his true nature speaks of silence. Yet who remembers the man of his silence, rather than his violence? As people become more mistaken by his false appearance, less will understand him. He is terribly misunderstood by his peers and others.
He never speaks of his social life, possibly because it is a failure. His parents only know about the same few who sits occasionally around a square table. 'No friends' is the worst reason a parent can give to a child who wants a birthday celebration.
Contrary to popular belief, he is capable of love. Yet he is afraid. With no confidence, he seeks no chances in any pursuit, so he makes none. Thrice have chances passed, maybe more, but he refuses to spoil the status quo. He did not dare! Calls were made. Hints were sent. Yet he does not capture the opportunities. Perhaps he did not see them, given his lack of inference skills. Time and time again, he regretted. Yet time and time again he could not bring himself to do it. It pains him too much to think of it, and even more if it doesn't succeed. The loss of a good friend is never preferred, since he doesn't have many. The powerful forces of attraction is blocked by himself, and turns inwards, changing into lethal force which drove him to the brink of insanity.
I looked at him, but was unable to give any suggestions. So I left the toilet, and the mirror in it.
