I'm well aware of the fact that I'm one of the most selfish human beings I know. A bit of a hedonist in some respects. I figure that I'm here to live for me, and no one else so I don't care what most people think, much less the family that views me as a circus freak show because they cannot begin to comprehend why I'm the way I am. Though admitting one's selfishness must be, at the least, better than denying it. I know I'm selfish and that I care about myself more than I should, seemingly.
What most don't see is that I am also selfless when the need arises. When it is deserved of me. My friends, my family that I chose. People that understand me and like me the way I am. People that don't love me simply because I'm related to them.
I think that friends, being people that you choose to spend time with and share yourself with, are more important than most family. Especially family that could care less about you when the Yankees are beating the Braves.
And I don't want to go just so my mother looks good to a family that hates her no matter what she does. Maybe her reasoning is that she's trying and that's better than their giving up on her. But when should you stop trying to be something you're not? When can you just accept that you're hated and there's nothing you can do to change the minds of those who hate you? I don't think she knows this, or even thinks along lines such as these.
Maybe I'm being too harsh because there are still things in this world I don't understand at the tender age of twenty-two.
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