understanding me

I think one of the biggest and most common problem encountered by teen angst as well as adults is the problem of “Nobody understands me…” (said in a depressing tone).

There are however two sides to this issue. One, the people who (agree) frequently thinks that whenever others do not agree with their views or opinions, or when they think that others do not care enough to make effort, therefore it is because they ‘do not understand me, the depth of which my thoughts go into’.

On the other hand is the party that scoffs at the mere mention of those depressing self-puffed up utterances. They are the ones who will go “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, but also stop thinking that you are too awesome to be fathomed. For we know what’s your problem; you sit around for problems to fix themselves while thinking about it.”

Unfortunately I can’t make up my mind which category to be in. I have always been one of the latter who turns up her little nose of people who do self pity, because I never liked sitting around feeling depressed for long. However of late I have sometimes thought the same thing as one member of the former would: that I want to have a deep philosophical conversation with someone of the same ‘flow’ who will understand. I want to talk about life, talk about the meaning of life, of the unknown future that that holds true for everyone, whether we want to go on or not. Of what they think about the existence of human beings, of the beat of that single butterfly wing across the mountains that has an effect on life itself.

One does not simply sit down a random friend or stranger and talk about these things. Careful selection is done on quiet observation and relational powers: how much you can relate to the other person. for sometimes you can never get how ‘deep’ the other person’s thoughts had gone, and try as you may, catching up is too complicated for life itself.