The Perks of Reflecting
Whenever I stumbled upon the word “Reflection” it had a magical tenor. It always reminds me of the people I hate, which, not being proud of it, the amount is more than many. I'm a sensitive person and I’m sure I’m not alone. I took things way too seriously sometimes but the other times, I’m chafing a lot of people’s hearts because I’m being way too nonchalant regarding what I say and do. Hatred is something virulent, I’d like to say.
It’s burning and chafing your throat and stomach. It lingers and skirts without being consistent about when will it go away. It’s jading and it always takes a toll on my mental health, every time I hate something or someone new. How to handle hatred? How to handle unwanted vile feelings? No idea.
But then, I started to see a pattern. Whenever I meet someone new, there’s always a thing that I highlight about them. Most of the time, it’s their ugly facet. I met a person called A who’s being a braggadocio about literally everything she has achieved. I dislike her for being a snob. I dislike her for bragging to much
But this word, the word reflection, leads me to a pill that I found really hard to swallow. That I find a little bit of me in A. That I find myself bragging about my achievements sometimes. Then I met B, who is being way too secretive about everything that people around him ended up being clueless on how to help him. I dislike him for making everyone fall into a pool of idleness. But again, I find a little bit of me in B. A part of me who always screams for help but never really puts any effort on being open about the predicament I’m currently in. Then I met C, who is always sentimental about everything, everywhere. I dislike her because I think that she shows way too much emotion and that sounds wrong to me. But then again, I find a little bit of me in C. The part of me who cries over a lost kitten near my house, the part of me who cries when I see a woman trying to make a living by dressing up as a clown near the traffic light near my school, the part of me who cries when a baby duck get separated from its mother.
How do I always own a part of something that I dislike in other people? Does it necessarily mean that all this time, I’ve been disliking myself? Maybe it does. I’m busy being annoyed at other people when maybe, it’s just me being annoyed by parts of myself that reflected in other people. I’ve never taken any reflection, I’ve made zero progress. Until the word reflection, until it thrives in between spaces of sentences full of hatred. I’ll take a reflection of myself before doing anything else. I’ll try to accept the sensitive part of me, the reserved part of me, and the braggadocio version of me.