It seems that this is all I am good at writing, diaries. This is also the one regret I have in life, that I stopped writing. Something, anything. I used to examine life, look at my decisions from so many angles, to ask myself questions like, why do I do this? Because I am lazy? or because this is what I want to do? Is this courage? To walk a path not everyone agrees is the best way forward? Or is it stubbornness?
But can one examine one’s life in public? Even when anonymous? Can it make any sense? No one will ever read this, but does that justify my wasting public space with discussions on events I cannot fully disclose? On the other hand, why should I continue to live an unexamined life? Once you write down something, there is always a chance that someone, somewhere might read it. So why not make it public in the first place?
What seems like a long time ago, as an undergraduate, I learnt one rule of survival. If you do not want to be talked about, do not do anything which can become gossip. Live a life without skeletons. Always behave as if you are in public. At that time, it seemed important, to never be a center of gossip. At that time, to blend in seemed important, it seemed like a good idea. I was a child of my time, my place. I lacked both confidence and social skills. It took me years to learn those things. The mannerisms of beautiful women, the confidence with which they face the world. Charm.
The price I paid for charm is the reason this truly great skill has lost its’ importance in the modern world. One must be lovable. Non-threatening. Easy to be around. A pleasure to be around. But to be non-threatening, one must sheath one’s claws, in fact, forget to use them. Never challenge, never rock the boat. Win friends. This sounds dangerous, once I put it this way, doesn’t it?