DISORDER DISORDER DISORDER









There are two kinds of people – ones that find every excuse to live miserably in disorder and ones that find something quite nice about disorder. And let me break it to you, disorder will never cease to exist in your life. And as I get older, I seem to see more and more of the first kind. But I know it’s not because of my city. The city of chaotic, frantic, anxiety-inducing, often smelly, but oh boy, is it filled with dreams. Perhaps, it comes with age. Perhaps, it’s my industry.  So then these people, who are so damn miserable and so damn condescending, I find them eventually congregating with one another. I guess it’s so they feel a little less alone. A little less miserable. Their miserable-like traits hitting many small nerves in my body. I’m cringing. Like tiny shards of glass inserting themselves nice and comfortably in the pores of my fingertips. And I can’t seem to remove them. I pick and I poke. And it erks my existence until I forget about it. After all, it is quite tiny. And it will go away. And I will be quite fine. I will be fine until it happens again. And the process starts all over again. Or worse, I break down and become meaningless, absolutely annoying shards myself. Oh, no. You see my concern here.

So I would hate to leave this conversation without an actual solution or conclusion. And I’m so compelled to write this because I have decision that friendship isn’t worth my sanity and my own worth. And I can’t carry shards in my hands and I’ve had enough. So here is the solution – Recognize who chooses to be miserable around you, stay at a safe distance from those who carry shards, preserve your own fondness for disorder. Don’t let them turn you.