After it's all said and done, at the end of the day, I just come to realise that in the end, I'm just as flawed as anyone, worse even. No matter how much I tell myself that I'll get it right, that I won't be a letdown, it appears I fail still. And the words, they hurt. Hurt not in ego, nor in intellect, but simply hurt as a reflection of that inflicted, carried in shapes of letters, keen daggers, they burn.


Why does it have to be this way? We make it a habit of keeping hurts to ourselves. Theory has shown that hurts are much better dealt with when exposed right away, but time and again, something keeps us from revealing them, but at what cost? Does one realise that in withholding hurts, one damages not only themselves and the relationship, but ultimately, when expulsed in an overflow of negative emotion, the other person? And yet, we continue to keep hurts in, thinking we're protecting the other, thinking ourselves overtly sensitive, attempting to diminish the hurt in our minds, lacking the boldness to state plainly that a hurt had been recieved. Is it of fear of negative reprisal? Then, in that case, one should bear in mind the greatly augmented reaction experienced in response to a collection of hurt, unleashed at once, upon a person.

For whatever reason, something prevents us, particularly Asians in Asian culture, from divulging precious, albeit sensitive information, in an interspersed, timely, and harmless manner. It's a bind, a weakness of our culture, in my opinion. Fears of embarrassment, fears of acting out of turn. Hurts accumulate, instead of being dealt with immediately. A lack of straightforwardness and openness bred deep in our culture has produced a generation of politically geared, multi-faceted, over-cautious and suspicious minds, myself included. Forthrightness has been demolished, and in it's place, layers of political intrigue, presided over on overt assumption, has been established. Curse it. I'm tired of trying to read between lines of what people say, of trying to glean information where there is none, or missing heavily layered and disguised intention under seemingly unimposing phrases. Someone wake me up.

The result? Misunderstanding. Incongruence. Leading, of course, to multiple sustained, but contained, hurts, due to the lack of knowledge on the other's part. Eventually, it becomes too much to contain, and the bitterness withheld is unleashed in a torrent, possibly along with pain, anger, resentment, and the rest. Many of these echo and resonate in the target of the onslaught, along with something else: shock. As pointed out earlier, this is probably the first time this party ha been made privy to the presence of what is only now recognised as a string of multiple hurts. Unfortunately, by this time, any apologies issued are already too late; the hurt has been festering, and no amount of consolation will stem the flow, and the resulting residues. Any pleas, protests, apologies, or cries are drowned out in the outpouring of previously collecting and undisclosed hurt. Consequently, once the burden has been offloaded, communication is immediately cut by the initiator (a result of the emotional flux), leaving the other in a state of shock after the ordeal, after vague, futile attempts to establish some form of communication are unsuccessful.

To be continued.

We cry.


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