Quick consideration on life and everything: people complain. All the time, about anything, with anyone. And I do not think that there is anything wrong with this, I mean, complaining about stuff gives you a better view of things you should be happy about… for instance, I am complaining about people complaining so that I will feel particularly enlightened by the human race the next time I hear anyone saying something positive.
But. There is a limit. I myself am a person who is constantly trying to find that little thing that does not work, comparing people’s works to find the imperfections, talking about how much I wish this aspect was different… in a word, complaining. At the same time, I know that, when I am complaining about MY life [sounds tragic, but I am sure we all know what this expression means] I do not go as far; being honest to myself, I would say that I rarely complain about what is happening to me at all.
Unfortunately, a lot of people seem to think that the only thing they have to say is their complaints on their own lives. What I find unnerving is that, at times, I feel that I am in a worse place than my conversational partner, but his/her complaints prevent me from explaining myself and even from looking for a friendly hug -because, at the end of the day, I hate complaining because I hate hetero-induced self-analysis and pity, but I love silent, even if awkward, hugs. I would rather know that someone is willing to waste ten minutes of their time hugging me awkwardly rather than launching into a long and complex explanation of what I feel is going wrong in that moment.
So, what I am complaining about today is people’s (myself included: I am no Wonder Woman) lack of listening abilities… like, okay, complain about being late at your meetings/being single/having horrible siblings for a while, but then it’s my turn!