I stared at the cup in front of me. It was white, plain, nothing to it. Just you’re basic cup. I guess it was better described as a mug, but it was still just an object, it spends most of its life going unnoticed. Yes sure, we pick it up, we fill it, but do people really sit there and think about their cups, do they care about them, think about them before they go sleep, as they wake up. No, this moment right now is probably the most time you’ve ever spend thinking about a cup.
As I continue to stare, the sweet smell of tea filled my nose and my eyes dreamily followed the steam as it rises. A slight buzz in my ear reminded me I wasn’t alone. The room was filled with busy, working people. I should be one of them, of course, but my mind is on other things. Things that those people in this room wouldn’t care about. Mainly because it wasn’t about them. Maybe, to a point they’d care, to get the latest gossip, for a reason to bitch and moan about something, but their overall goal wouldn’t be to help me.
My gaze into the distance didn’t last long, possibly a second or two, but it felt like my mind had run 1000 laps around the world. It wouldn’t shock me if no one noticed. Someone hands me a bit of paper, someone else asks for my help, someone even tells me about something going on in their lives, and I guess to a point I’m a hypocrite, because I only care about them, as much as they care about me. We talk because it’s just socially required. I laugh at a bad joke they’ve made, and they do the same to me. I smile as I walk past them, and my face drops the moment we have distance, I know they are doing the same to me, so I don’t feel bad about it.
My life has become a horrible circular routine of paper work, fake laughing and fake feelings.
Sometimes when I get my silence, I hear other people’s conversations. They talk about trivial things, about crap no one cares about. They spend more time talking about what they think of other people, they judge and then they talk about how their lives are so much better than everyone else’s, and as I listen, all I can think is ‘your life isn’t really, ‘all that,’ love!’
This is the world we live in, this world where people would rather care about what you’re wearing and how you look, then to care about how you feel.
You will sit there, and you’ll pretend that you’re different, that you’re a nice person, that you’re better than everyone else. But then you’ll decide not to date someone because their too fat, too skinny, have the wrong eye colour, the wrong hair colour. All the things that have nothing to do with what makes them who they are. The world has become cruel, or maybe it always was, and I was just too naïve to see it, or maybe it was because it didn’t affect me, because I was different then.
I can’t blame everyone however, I’ve become as cynical as they have.