an irony of sorts.

ive been struck lately with how small we make our own worlds. how introspective and individual our concerns. how every person that you walk past is concerned with themselves and their day and their life and their plans and their sadnesses and their denial and their attempts to change or stay the same.
and i am the worst. i know that.
but everyone on varying levels is this way. even mother theresa we learn had a private life in which she doubted and questioned and had individual and selfish concerns. and i love her for that. because it makes her and her work accessible. you do not have to be perfect and entirely selfless every minute of every day to do her work, you just need to continue to work and care in the midst of it.

and the trend seems to be that the more we open up and let others in, as well as care for others without thought to ourselves (or try to), the closer we come to finding the true love for ourselves and the beauty in letting other people in to love us.
unfortunately i seemed to have learned along my one-woman path through life that letting people in just leads to hurt. unnecessary. hurt that would not have happened if i had not let that person/those people in that far. and i can fully argue both sides, both for and against radical trust, don't worry. but... i put stock in my feelings because i know the control and manipulation i subject my thoughts to, and my feelings when honest (rare) reveal to me that after the whole argument with myself, the pros of keeping people out outweigh the pros of letting them in.
i don't know whether or not that's "right."
but my feelings have proved truer and authentic-er in the past. many more times than my thoughts.

so that's the me that you encounter when all you get is a smile and a loud greeting, no inquiry to your soul, and no invitations to mine. it's nothing personal against you. it's totally personal against me. and it's a battle that i'm struggling to even convince myself to fight. so, in the words of a strangely relevant monologue from my solo show about my struggle with pride... "please love me anyway?"

and here i am writing a blog of all things, the ultimate of inward-action (because i write and throw it out there gambling on whether anyone will read it, and if they do whether they will even be concerned with what i write) about acting inwardly, rather than doing something about it. as if this world wide web confession that may reach no one at all somehow justifies my continued apathy in this regard...