the intrigues of human interaction.

or the lack thereof.

this is a sticky issue.
i hate having to pretend.

it's just damn tiring.

but by the looks of it,
people all around are just pretending.
i don't even know who aren't, anymore.

it's alright, i say.
a l l r i g h t .

because i am, too.

human interaction is dangerous -
that is what i discovered over the past week.

every single sound you utter has to be weighed carefully.
every single letter you pen down is of consequence.

it's kind of fun, though.
especially when you are spying a squabble.
the best part?
it's just kind of meaningless.
but intriguing, nonetheless.

i begin to wonder -
is seventeen the traumatic age?
i can't say for sure,
but for me,
OH definitely.
one thing for sure:
i wasn't as childish.

HEY, i'm not judging here.
it's a fact.
i didn't
-giggle girlishly
-scream piercingly (irritatingly)
-curse for the thrill of it
since the age of thirteen.

that's besides shedding tears in public,
but that's another story for another day.

i take a step back to see the whole picture,
and i really want to ask Him.
ask Him,
'why are we such selfish, sadistic and pretentious creations?'

i don't even want to guess his/her/their intentions.
i would rather not.
i have an inkling it is probably my affirmative.

there are many things going on around me.
and i have no wish to sully my days with these -
they are sullen enough, already.

but thank God,
all of these met,
but didn't collide.

ugh.
i'm quite sick of the growing frivolity.
that of others, and that in me.

the flippant comments;
rash decisions;
harsh words;
steely manners;
ignorant treatment.

haiyah.
take my words
and multiply it by a hundred-fold -

still,
you'll barely have a glimpse of what i'm going through.