Sometimes, when going to outings, I will think, what is my purpose for going?<\/p>\n
Who am I when I am there? Am I of existance?<\/p>\n
Maybe. Maybe not.<\/p>\n
There's not much common things to talk. <\/p>\n
It's sometimes more like a gathering, where I will feel out of place.<\/p>\n
And when I feel out of place, I will be damn bored. I will be damn stone.<\/p>\n
But who cares. No one will bother. <\/p>\n
Everyone is in some conversation. There are multiple conversations going on. Which one can be cut in? Which 1 cannot?<\/p>\n
And also. Some conversations are secretive. And that will make me feel even more left out of the loop. People not telling you things, and yet, happily laughing away. <\/p>\n
And what can I do? Act as if I know, and laugh along? Act blur? Act bo-chup?<\/p>\n
Simply put, I hate this kind of feeling. But I try to suppress all these hatred. Swallow them in, and try to look for openings.<\/p>\n
It's not easy.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Sometimes, when going to outings, I will think, what is my purpose for going? Who am I when I am there? Am I of existance? Maybe. Maybe not. There's not much common things to talk. It's sometimes more like a … Continue reading