Cynicism

The other day someone told me I’d changed. I’d become harder, colder, more cynical. It’s been gnawing away at my conscience ever since. I’ve always myself on finding the good in people, relentlessly pouring time into them in the hope they’ll all flourish as gems. In a sense it’s also my greatest downfall.

I’m constantly surrounded by torrents of people I hold no real affection for: arrogant people, stupid people, vicious people and those whose company I find just a bit dull. I’m a continual melting pot of confidences, as a seemingly endless parade of acquaintances confess all their deepest, darkest horrors. But for all the time I invest into other people, it seems few are willing to make a return deal.

Throughout life I’ve wandered through; a good friend to many best friend to none. Perhaps most recently I’ve watched friendships grow at university. I talk to people, laugh, hug, cook them dinner. But still we don’t interact quite in the same way other people do. There’s a certain level of comfortability, a relaxed ease with one another, which I never seem to reach.

I come to wonder perhaps, that whilst the good mighty lie in everyone, it might not be worth the bother. The more people I know, it feels like the less people really know me. Perhaps if I skill all the “if, buts and maybe” people I’ll end up with more time to concentrate on the people that matter. Then maybe I won’t just be another person you’re happy to chat to for five minutes.

Maybe I’ve become too cynical, who knows?

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