ramblings of the Elderly

I wonder if I could feel the shockwave of my death, truly realize how much people “love”
me, or how much appreciated I am.
Just incase you are wondering,
Yes this is going to be yet another rambling of an 80year old man on his death bed…

I have lived my life with the best intentions. I have looked forward to death more than I have thought about my future with that girl. With my good intentions , I have done the best that I can to be there for the people I call my friends , my family.
When you need me my life stops, so that yours can continue. When you need me I show up and do it well even when part of me is wincing in pain. Maybe thats my fatal flaw , to give and give and give even when I dont have any more

Why do you never pour into my cup?

You say you miss me everyday but never make time for me. Some go on and preach about reciprocation. How if someone does this for you they at least deserve a that. Why do I never get anything?
Am I not anyone in your life?
Am I just a venting booth
Am I really Joachim Phoenix in HER?

Maybe just because people tell me the inner most parts of themselves casually I eventually over-estimate my value in their lives. I used to think it a super-power but I realize the truth in Stan Lee’s words, “ with great power comes great responsibility“

Thing is I feel obliged to help out , to be there.. because If I dont who will. The biggest question I ask myself is why Do I ever choose people that never choose me?
Why do I keep selling myself shot and go all out for people that need only to dump all their shit into me ?
I never chose this , all I wanted was some company, to be a good friend and to have.
I could stop thinking about what life should be and maybe accept what it actually is.

Maybe I am a waste dump, you know how you only realize the importance of the “madhodha” bin guys when your bin is full and you still go on to dump all your shit anyway? And you never really appreciate except your kids singing that fuggly song “maswera sei , amadhodha binhi🎶”
Thats how I feel everyday
I keep the parts that people don’t want to acknowledge about themselves
The part of them that they hate inside me
And maybe thats why they don’t want me around, honestly would you want your trash can to be always around?
I feel like I smell of pain, trauma, unachieved goals, heartbreak , grief etc

If we were on reddit we would say r/usernamechecksout
Thats it for my twitter handle @___thelastSadist (dont follow me , I dont follow back)

Anyway I feel that if I don’t change my lifestyle I’m going to be eighty with a lot of shit . People’s shit
My problem is that I CARE too much

In one of the dmc’s I had with a friend , he said something that stuck with me and I think y’all deserve to hear his thought process out. I asked him how he was developing coping mechanisms and he said…

Realising that my social needs cannot be fully met by most people but that each person has a limit to the value they can bring and trying to go beyond that results in them exposing their incompetence in matters they’re ill equipped to deal with. Once I have done that, it’s akin to judging a fish by its ability to climb a tree.

I don’t know if this is the most ideal way to live life to be honest, but it has been pragmatically helpful to compartmentalize the aspects of my social being and needs.

It’s a very deep complex I had to develop as a coping mechanism.
This was because I was in a position where I felt hurt by the very people I depended on and had to coexist with if I had a shot at making it into the future.
As such, I developed a cognitive habit of “trying to be the bigger person”. This meant depersonalizing my living experience and viewing myself more as an objective actor in the world, just like everyone else.
This allowed me to let go (at least consciously) of the bitterness bred from the hurt and disappointment caused by people.

I did this through learning to view people as highly imperfect children, no more than me, trying to figure things out with as much difficulty as possible.
If it was hurt from parents, I learnt to explore the possibility that they were children who were hurt and lacking in healthy development; victims too.

If it was ignorance and disappointment from friends and peers, I tried to consider that I possibly would have done the same had I been exposed to the same life experiences.

This allowed me to take things less personally.

Tarisai.

So I do wonder if my death would finally result in me getting the love that I think I deserve. The love that I want, that I crave for everyday.

So yes sometimes I wish I could just die and feel the love but we all know kuti that is a pipe dream
Its the bpd talking anyway

Go on have a lovely week.