Perhaps an over exaggeration.
I've never like when people give me pity, sympathy, or compassion. No matter the circumstance. Those who know me well, understand that.
There is, as well, most definitely a difference between pity, sympathy, compassion and understanding. All focused on one situation.
I'm trying to make things work, always, by wearing a smile and not letting things get to me (even though things do get out of hand - like last Thursday). Today is one of these days that if one were to look at me pityingly I would punch them. I do not doubt that.
Today is the exception of all things. Today is the day that I saw something I thought I would only ever hear about it, which makes it traumatizing. But I, in no way, want any sympathy, pity, or compassion. Just understanding. Because that's all it takes.
I know that by telling me sob stories, that it's supposed to be like understanding. But they just don't understand. Rather, that's compassion. I mention that it felt like I was hearing about my grandma, and watching her lie in a med-bed all over again - and they think telling me how they felt about their grandparents makes it all the better. NO. Nothing works that way. That's compassion and sympathy.
It doesn't equate.
I hate to say this but this is the reason why I do not get along with people easily.
I was just sitting in the library, trying to finish my homework assignment, it was around . Then through my headphones I heard this choking/coughing/moaning sound. But since I hadn’t taken off my headphones yet, I couldn’t discern where the sound was coming from, and kept looking around. Turned out, it was coming from just one computer stall away from me.
He was lying on the floor by the time I realized where exactly his location was. I couldn’t do anything though; I was just in too much shock. I looked around at all the curious faces of the other college students, who were looking at me because they didn’t know what was going on, and quite frankly – at that moment, I didn’t know either.
The guy at the next compute stall over mentioned that it seemed like he was having an epileptic seizure or something of the sort.
I freaked out.
---to put it mildly.
I can’t handle situations like that very well.
I could have helped to stabilize him or something; he had bitten his tongue from what they were saying, and blood was everywhere. Okay; exaggeration. Blood was in a large oval stain on the carpet, and on his face.
I saw his face!
And I saw his eyes. They scared me so much, because while he looked absolutely out of it, he also looked aware of everything. More aware than a dog or cat.
I just couldn’t take it. I tried to ignore the EMTs, returned to the computer screen and typed as fast as my brain would go. I did have an assignment due, and a meeting to get to.
Nothing has worked though.
I can’t get his face out of my head, or the blood stain on the library floor, or the image of his shaking body. I tried to work on my essay in literature class, but that didn’t work. I tried to sleep in government and economics class, but the same result. I left school at , with muscle twitching, jerky and clumsy body movements, and a brain that couldn’t remember my teacher’s name.
Can I mention again, that I don’t want pity, sympathy, or compassion?
I'm not naiive. I'm not stupid. Maybe at times a little dense... but I know the real world. Sometimes I just haven't seen it yet. Just parts. I'm far from blind and ignorant. When it comes down to it, I can hold my own, against a girl or guy...
An accumulation of assignments and stress was perhaps the beginning and this just made it worse....
But I just don’t get it. These things are always happening to me. I don’t get why. It’s not making me stronger. Yes, it’s testing me, and perhaps it’s a sign from God, because I haven’t been... Christian-like lately...
But that’s too much faith in me if He thinks I’m not going to break eventually. I seriously couldn’t handle it, trying to write my essay in class... so I was contemplating suicide. Because then there’s no more stress and I’m just sick of everything.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who often wonders what their purpose in life is... well... I’ve been searching. Even though I understand myself, and my place, I still don’t think I have a purpose. I’ve been so sheltered my entire life, that it hasn’t been possible for me to “spread God’s word”...
I don’t know.
I just don’t know anymore.
I’ve played this game, it’s gone on too long, and I forfeit.