"Alone, even doing nothing, you do not waste your time. You do, almost always, in company. No encounter with yourself can be altogether sterile: Something necessarily emerges, even if only the hope of some day meeting yourself again." (E.M. Cioran)

Saturday, August 05, 2006

Was A Friend

He thinks he is the only one who suffers as he does, in isolation. He thinks his suffering is more justified. He doesn't understand why people sometimes become indifferent to him - after all, he has sought out their company and has been capable and charming. He doesn't recognise love when it is being given to him, nor friendship when he has it. He betrays his real self and his real friends alike. He knows what he doesn't want, but not what he wants. He knows who he doesn't like, yet doesn't like himself. He lives in the world as he sees it and is master of it, but he is miserable. He assumes he is being misunderstood.

He seldom admits to being moved by what moves others and maybe he isn't. He sets himself apart and negates the value of mere mentions of things that have brought small satisfactions or joy to acquaintances - books, films, art, studies, people, jobs. He knows better, or so he thinks. His take on things is more informed. His studies and life mission are more relevant and worthy than yours. A narcissist, this is what he thinks. It gets tedious after a while, but don't challenge or criticise him. He can only dish it out.

I know about him, because he was a friend of mine.

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