Karmic Retribution?
I’ve been thinking a lot lately, mostly about my ability to apparently fall in love with the guy’s who wont want me like that. As soon as it seems to go in that direction, it’s… never good. The saddest part is I think it could be beautiful, it could be wonderful, but I’m not the girl. I’m not her. I wouldn’t want to be her, not that she isn’t great, or anything like that, but I’m quite happy being me most of the time.
But it all led me to this wondering about karmic retribution. How many people do you think I scorned in a former life, or even before I knew how painful love can be, to get me where I am now? How can anyone know just how much karmic badness they’re going to have to pay for before life gives them even the barest hint of recognition.
I like to think I do good things. Not many people will stand there for ten minutes holding a door open for people coming through just because it seems the right thing to do. I don’t do it for the karma, I don’t do it for the thank yous. I do it because people should /just/ do things like that. It seems ridiculous, however, that most people will let a door close on an old man who is shuffling along because they’re in too much of a hurry to get to their daily grind.
But it’s really been bugging me, and for some reason I believe that’s part of what’s been weighing on my mind and strangling my want to do things, and my creativity. (that and the fact that the kitchen looks like a bomb hit it and I’ve had no desire to clean it, and it’s killing me.) but the fact that my karma seems to have hit so far into the negatives that I can’t seem to get even the slightest crumb of what I really want… what I need. Maybe I’m just unsure of what I really need, but I feel like I need his love, so how can that be wrong? If I feel it that deeply, even if I’m lying to myself… it’s real to me.
I don’t want to sound emo, trust me, that’s the last thing I’d ever want, but sometimes I just wonder how much of an impact I make. I’m there, I’m that shoulder, I’m the girl that’ll be there when you want, and normally vacate when you don’t. I’m the shelfable friend, but… would any of them mourn? It’s not a suicide thought, at all, I made a promise long ago, but it does make me think. It makes me wonder…
I don’t know, maybe I’m just overthinking things again. It happens, a lot, and now I’m just going to go back to my other shit until I can remember what else I was going to post about.