My Daemon

Shelved

Yeah, it was pointed out to me by my sister yesterday as I sat vainly trying to hold a conversation with someone over msn

"You always get put on the shelf, don't you?"

I thought about it for a moment, and then nodded sadly. Yes, yes I do.

The worst thing about it was that I've only recently realised how often I get put onto one side so that 'more important' people get seen to first. What is it about -me- that means I'm not deserving of first place? I notice that over the years I'm becoming less of the caring person I was, and more of this bitter personality that seems to have no time for anyone; but why should I give my all when nobody gives back?

I notice myself butting in with rude comments when holding a conversation with my own mother. A drunken (on her behalf), rambling conversation, but even so I should have held my tongue like I used to; I find myself getting wound up when she makes her point, rambles round the subject, makes the point again, repeat ad nauseum. I will rephrase the point, in a louder, hurried, annoyed voice. If she doesn't get the hint, I'll tell her 'yes I understand'. I seem to have lost the ability to sit there and let her talk, I just don't seem to care anymore.

Perhaps I've cracked, perhaps I've had enough of being the person who has to put up with everyone else's problems, and who never gets what I give back. I want to be a nice person, but I'm sick of being interrupted, talked over, pushed to one side.

I'm sick of being put on the shelf all the time.

This doesn't mean, of course, that I want to be the centre of attention, all I ask is for my friends and relations to sometimes take into consideration that perhaps -I- want to talk about myself for once; while their anecdote might be funnier/more interesting/wackier/more amazing, shouldn't they show a little consideration beyond the 'hi how are you?' shouldn't they actually take an interest in my life, like I do in theirs?

I'm not the most interesting person in the world, but I do have feelings.

Conscience

For those people who read this, I'm now feeling much much better. Tired, snowed under with work that I can't be arsed to do right now, but better. Today I'm going to tell you about something that happened to me as I was walking home today.

Yes, I've decided that while the weather's still nice, I shall indeed walk the mile or whatever into university every day, and walk home again. It's exercise, the route's fairly nice if you go through the park, it's busy so it's safe(ish), and it saves me money. I get up no earlier to do it anyway, and I'm enjoying it so far.

Anyway. Today I was walking home 'on my own' because the other zoologists who live in Owen's Park had a few things to patch up, and I wanted to go because I hate faffing around and wasting time when there's places I want to go. As I was going through rusholme I paid little attention to the man dressed in the expensive dolce clothing, talking on his rather flashy mobile phone. That was until a crisp £20 note fell out of his pocket directly onto the pavement infront of me.

I stopped, I picked it up. I began thinking about what I could spend with this £20; it was esentially one or two weeks budget, I could buy that book I needed without chipping into my savings, I could buy food, warm clothes... Looking briefly back at the man I saw a wadge of notes sticking out of his pocket. He wouldn't miss £20...

But no, I caught up with him and after handing the note back to him, pointed out that perhaps he shouldn't keep so much money in his pocket, especially walking through an area like that where thieves and muggers operate. He briefly thanked me for my help and checked the road behind him in a momentary panic - I reassured him that this was the only note he'd dropped.

*sigh* Sometimes I wish I didn't have a conscience.