Uninvited

There are many ways to show someone he or she is no longer welcome among us. The roughest, yet truest, is to show him or her the door and tell him or her to leave. The lowest is never to name the subject, never to say "I'd like you to leave", but to make our former guest uncomfortable in every possible way, to make him or her feel unwanted and uninvited without ever saying so, while doing everything within one's reach to pretend that nothing is happening.

I really don't know how it can get more obvious than it already is.

It always comes around

We might avert our eyes to cruelty and pretend it is not there. We chose to ignore it, wait for it to go away, and then move on as if it never happens. One day, though, we'll be the ones against the wall. One day we'll be the ones tasting the cruelty we tried so hard not to see before. On that day, we'll wish to have someone speaking for us. And when we see that no one is coming forth to stand for us, we'll see at last what we refused to see before.

The hawk and the vulture

I stared into the skies and took the shape for a hawk, proud and beautiful and merciless, soaring the blue sky. It was up above, far away; and yet I could see the glimmer of its eyes, scouring the land below for helpless prey. For a moment I imagined it tracking it, and plunging from the clouds in a swift, and unstoppable stroke that would mean certain death above the ground. However, as the shape drew near, I realized my mistake. It was no hawk, but a vulture. There was no beauty in its twisted shape of black feathers and hook-shaped beak. There was no pride in its bent, naked neck. There was no mercilessness in its jet-black eyes - only cruelty, which is ruthless but without justice. A vulture. A scavenger, stealing dead bodies, feasting on the rotten remains of whatever others have left behind, no matter how, when or why.

No good deed goes unpunished

It ain't no time for good deeds. They have lost their meaning, reduced to dust by the will of a stranger. Only the wrongs do matter now. The wrongs, the mistakes, the doubts. Only negativity matters when one's dealing with destruction instead of creation.

By the bucket

Sometimes I wonder why so many people around me takes so much pleasure of proving me wrong. As if it was something hard to do! What most of that people cannot realize is, I totally suck at arguing. Seriously. I couldn't talk my way out of anything if my own skin were at stake. What I'm moderately good at is at baffling. You know the saying: if you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit. That's me. I'm far, remotely far from brilliant. But I can toss bullshit by the bucket, and I suppose (I hope) that goes a long way.

Expectations and hope

There is a difference between expectations and hope. I didn't really expected it to happen - it wouldn't be reasonable - but deep down I hoped it would. More often than not, when there's such a mismatch between expectations and hope, it will be hope losing it. This is not pessimism, mind you; the fact is, if one expects something that isn't even remotely likely, hope is nothing but the swiftest way to bitter delusion.