No Words Left Unspoken: Mean

Everyone is different.

What sets us apart from one another, apart from appearances are our personalities and perspective. Two persons may be alike, but never identical. The way we process information and react to different situation are constantly moulded everyday, whether we realize or not. I always believe that we had ability to change – to be a better person than we were yesterday.

I’ve always enjoyed meeting people. I observe and understand people and learn from them. I see how people talk or how they introduce themselves, or how they keep quiet despite being thrown hurtful words. I look at how hardworking people are – students or working adults. I see, and I try to learn.

But then, there are some attitude that I have yet to decipher. How some people like to brag beyond their region of expertise, making them a joke and an outcast. And especially, how some people like to constantly undermine others.

I like to make excuses for these people. But sometimes you reach a breaking point, where you know that you no longer can justify these actions or hurtful words. And sometimes, you just have to express how you really feel.

I don’t like to write so blatantly about how I feel. Partly because, one day, I’m going to look back and read what I wrote and remember all these hurtful things – which I don’t want to. Most of all, it’s because I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to feel hurt. I despise giving the people who hurt me the satisfaction they badly crave for. These negative feelings are bound to be forgotten and replaced by simple things I get attracted to – like the beauty of sunset, or the sight of a kind act, or the melodious tune of street performers.

At 21, I came to a point where I am totally indifferent by your snide comments. For more than 10 years, I am crippled by these remarks. Do you feel better when you tear me down? Are you so insecure that you need to pompously exaggerate your family in comparison to mine? Or are you just plain mean? To be honest, I never really quite understood your intentions; it has never made me feel less of myself, but instead, less of you each time.

I wonder: [update: removed due to confidentiality reasons]

These are merely a few examples of things I remembered, despite how hard I wanted to forgive and forget. Do you even know what you are saying? I can’t understand why you have to be so mean. Blood is supposed to be thicker than water. And just because you don’t always throw these words right in my face doesn’t mean I don’t know what is going on. I may keep quiet, but i am not a pushover. Neither is any of my family members.

You’re an elder, and I have to respect you. I will, even if I don’t like it. I tell myself, time and again, I will not sink to your level.


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