What is this, man?

No matter how many times I convince myself that it doesn't matter, it still affects me somewhere in the depths of my heart, and it's something I've never been able to comprehend.

Am I caring too much?

A majority of the friends know that I don't like to see them with furrowed brows in consternation or anxiety and adopting a façade to suppress all worries from the public eye (although I'm guilty of doing it more than once). Inasmuch as I dislike their decision to do so, I understand there's always more to their choice than meets the eye; something that they are adamant of handling it alone and personally, perhaps?

With that, I have a confession to make.

The negative side of being thoughtful for acquaintances and friends is that I won't have any idea if I have been taken advantaged of or being griped about without my knowledge - or so I have heard recently, but harbor no intentions of investigating (there are traces of a lack of probity and candor, mind you). The contents have been withheld from me for my own protection; according to the chum, she doesn't want to hurt me with the spoken words as she knows it bears no weight and how sensitive I am.

But what has been said aloud about me cannot be rescinded as walls have ears and the winds carry tales.



It'll be a tad bit too tardy for any repentance when I choose to stop caring about anyone or anything. A person's patience is never infinite; there's always a boundary where, once crossed, takes the person beyond the point of no return. That will be me. I'm not made of sterner stuff; I'm merely masking myself with the façade and stoicism and letting my actions speak for itself.

By then, I'll be a much happier lass, working towards her dreams and goals.