Every other person who has once been in the mental construct of being an every other person, far distant from you doesn’t matter.
In all uniqueness and honesty, not a single question he or she asks holds any value to your growth or survival for that matter. The guy who once was your friend comes to you out of thin air and presents a question about your past, your work, your life just so you can give them two lines which are then dissected to the narrative they feel fitting their comfort isn’t something worthwhile. If that means a few more days, months or years in isolation, in loneliness, in dark alleys and hidden corners, so be it.
Isn’t it a question to ask yourself before opening up your whole life to a potential stranger, what good does it do to me? The guy might drive a BMW for that matter and it still doesn’t matter. He could be a great personality with his audience and it doesn’t matter. He might say a thing or two that strikes a chord with us all, generally speaking and it won’t matter. It just won’t matter till the time he’s open to the degree he’d want you to be.
I’m starting to ask questions back to the people who ask me questions about anything because if they don’t have the heart to answer them, my brain says I don’t have to. I propose, yours should say the same.
What are your plans for the future?
That’s a general jibber jabber chatter around and among friends. Its not to be thought too deeply in the moment but to say what’s in your mouth. It’s mostly air when someone asks me. phff!
There’s another thing, I hate talking about money. The conversion from rupees to any other currency is bothersome. Its gut wrenching, its fucking bonkers. I value work too much for it to be dependent on money and thereafter to prove its worth in monetary terms. If that were the case or not, I can lay down thousands of templates and formulas to assess every man’s doing to just a number.
This is good too, I have my weakness out in the open. There’s only one way this can go now.
thouwriter 