Rubber Band Ball

Isn’t it frustrating how when someone you respect and look up to disagrees with you for the first time, they instantly fall from their respect throne to a prickly pin cushion of resentment, while you shrink into severe moments of self-pity, offense, and flared individualism. It is very unhealthy to be this way, I really should stop. But the more the people around me start to disagree or try or correct and maybe even out of well-intentioned help, I instantly recoil and use it as affirmation for my newly-being-explored solitude. Maybe this is the evil twin of the attitude I should have had a long time ago to be able to “foundationalize” who I am apart from this bee-hive of a world around me. But then again, I’m pretty good at rationalizing my horrifically helixed insights to conform to something I know I need and want; life’s a pretty easy lie to live when you make your own logic. Though, if I don’t make my own, I’m just conforming to someone else’s predisposed understanding of the way things should be for themselves. And since I’m me, and the problem of the matter is that I am allowing other people to mold my character clay, then using my own logic to apply to my own self should be the key to the secret garden, my friends. But please use caution, because for someone like myself who needs some method of personal checks and balances, or at least I fear not having one for the in-return fear of morphing my life into an indiscernible ball of all my internality, well that’s just it. And thus no matter how much I could ever try to disprove the existence of something larger than myself, the rubberband ball-through-a-paper shredder of a mess my life is capable of being and many times is, gives me all the more understanding of my need for an Ultimate Standard. Because frankly, friends, people disappoint and lead you astray, but it’s a lot easier to do that to yourself.