Thoughts on listening to your little tirade on how perfect your little life is

For what life, after all, is not complicated?

What set of sensibilities is not without peculiarity, what mentality without absurdity? What environment is so ideal as to be almost what it seems to be, when the dysfunctions distributed among countless generations of lives lie within each childhood, manifesting themselves in each day-to-day?

There are as many gradations of complexity as there are shades and hues, if not more. The way I look at that piece of news on TV could be 180 degrees apart in judgement, or lack thereof, from yours. My perception of your present dilemma could be the 703rd in the 1,534 assessments diffused out there. Psychology could very well be in its incipient stage when it comes to understanding the way with which people look at, and/or experience, an emotion, an epiphany, an event, an ordeal. Instinct could just be as unpredictable as chance, if one looked closer.

So-called charmed lives could not be as charmed as they appear to be. It just isn't possible, not with how differently each mind is programmed by context and circumstance, not with the inexhaustible contingencies brought about by each ticking of the clock's hands, the clock itself a symbol of man's never-ending battle with the exactness of the space between each second, the spaces themselves containing an infinitude of aberrations.

If I hadn't been brought up the way I was, I would already have rolled my eyes at your rattle on how so-and-so should have lived her life more "morally" than how she's living it, at how so-and-so should not have done what he had done because it was just,well, "wrong". Though oftentimes I fail, I try my hardest not to pass judgement on the weakness of others, knowing fully well that I am just as human as everyone else.

As it is, I continue to listen and endure. I cross my arms over my chest and tap a finger on my elbow. My years have taught me that there are simply some things one should not waste energy on.