The last few days for me have been one of reflection. Quiet reflection. Reflection of the days gone by, the days to come and more importantly of the person that I think I am.
It all unfortunately started with a slightly (ok, very) inebriated night, where I am afraid I started to talk a little more than I would have liked about myself and my family around people I hardly know. I am not one of those people who consciously avoids talking about themselves or their personal lives. In fact as Oswald will testify, I abhor it that people keep things to themselves- especially when it eats them up inside.
However, lately, I have found to my surprise, I am exactly that sort of person. When I look at the people around me, I am always amazed at how much I know of people and their backgrounds and how little they know of me. What does that mean for me and my friends? Nothing much I guess. It's not like I won't tell, if I'm asked. It's just that I won't tell, unless I am asked. Does that make me a private person? In a way, I guess it does.
But, what I don't like about being this way is:
1. I can never tell people when I am really annoyed about something. (No. Looks of annoyance that flit across face routinely are only the surface). I usually need an outlet, and I think mine unfortunately is snapping about something else completely irrelevant, to get myself to cry and let it all out.
2. I never really know what's bugging me. It's just something that keeps accumulating over a period, till I either implode or explode (more likely of the two).
3. When I need to think about something, I need to be left alone, but know that someone is around in case I need to talk (rare though that may be).
What does all this mean? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Then why I am I even typing this out. Who knows, and whokhyeres.
Btw, random. Private person is another PP. Haha.
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Crazy Kooks.
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