Bookmark #487

As the bus passed the same inconspicuous bend in the road I often paid attention to on my journeys back and forth all those years ago, it occurred to me just how much had changed in less than. There are things you remember that, when shown to other people, would not strike as significant. But, a stump on a random bend in the road is a landmark in the personal history of you. That is how it is with some things in life. They mean the world to you while the world shrugs them aside. It does not mean they are not important, only that not everything important is worth sharing. You will eventually find, there is a lot not worth sharing.

I recently had a realisation, naturally borne out of an evening spent at the cafe after a long day of work, that all good things happen in my life in isolation. The celebrations last a few minutes, and then I return to work. It is not to say I do not enjoy myself, but only that there is something in me that understands it’s too important; everything that I do is important, if not for the world, then at least for me. And thus, sitting to celebrate a worldly achievement means nothing to me simply because I could not care less.

While all my celebration is a private affair, all my destruction is a public spectacle. If I sometimes manage to dress it well into words, there is even applause. No one truly comprehends what absolute obliteration does to someone, but everyone claps for it, even when the destruction is so complete, even the embers go out. This has always been the case, and this is why, even with all my love for them, I do not trust other people with most good things. Those who applaud pain simply because they find they, too, have felt it are not to be trusted with something as valuable as joy.

Like how at a party, a guest picks something up to look at closely, only to stumble and break it, people often tend to crack open happiness. It is best to have your own monuments on hairpin turns without a picture to remember them by. It is best to hide your joy in plain sight: in a room that is not locked, but only the door looks so unenticing, no one wanders into it when looking for the washroom, even in error, even at all.

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