These days, my life is insignificant in the eyes of those once important to me. I was once a single-serving entity. Now, I am nothing more than distant memories of what used to be; the whole “shadow of former self” complex, which was and is, itself, a single-serving disposition.
Though it shouldn’t be such a surprise, people are often single-serving towards one another. The cab driver takes you from your house to the airport; the telemarketer stoically asks you how often you drink milk on weekdays; the flight attendant idiotically smiles as she asks you what you would like to drink after the plane makes its 30,000 foot ascent; the McDonald’s clerk calmly asks what size meal you would like your number 5; the person serving you exists for that one function, and that person ceases to exist beyond that purpose.
What takes me by surprise is when those close to me force me into a single-serving corner (ie, helping someone pay a phone bill, proof-reading someone’s paper for their Master’s Thesis, driving far distances to pick someone up who has car trouble, etc). Call me sensitive, but a “thank you” or simple gesture of gratitude (ie, a hug, a handshake, a phone call once in awhile, picking up the phone when I call, a Birthday Card, etc) should not require a whole lot of effort; it should be as easy as taking a sh*t, where nature takes its course.
Unfortunately, as I’ve learned over time, it is unnatural for people, especially those closest to you that know you’re nice, to show any type of courtesy; however, it is natural for those close to you to be extremely selfish. And it’s so easy for those kind of people to act without guilt because they feel they can take for granted that you’ll always be there to be a push-over.
To make matters worse, if you don’t let those selfish few take advantage of your kindness, it is just as easy for them to forget about you because you weren’t willing to be single-serving. It’s really quite disappointing to accept, but it’s reality.
Strangely, my need to be thanked or praised for my actions is, itself, also single-serving in nature, though unintentional because I desire a long-term pattern of interaction that perpetuates my existence. It feels good to be wanted and needed, but to what end and when can I say enough is enough?
No matter which way I flip this socially awkward dichotomy, my perception only accelerates my movement into a vanishing point. I desire this solitude because I’ll only be as important as the next persons’ problem, and I’d like to think that I mean more than that to anyone, including myself.
1 comment
Hi uni687, you’ve accurately summed up my problem with the universe as well as my intended solution. We are all single-serving beings. Our lives serve some trivial purpose, after which we are cast aside like spoiled meat. Our value, not just to society, friends & family, but to the entire stage of existence, is no more than that cab driver’s. We do our job and are never thought of again.
There are those who speculate that our lives acquire meaning after we are dead (i.e. heaven, hell, nirvana, reincarnation), but I believe that this 1 consciousness is all you get. And if you can’t find satisfaction within this life, you aint gonna get any closer when you’re rotting in the ground.
In other words, our entire lives are single-serving, and after we die I don’t believe we’ll be getting any hugs, praise, appreciation or thanks for whatever we accomplished.
Your solution of fading into obscurity (whether by conscious design or not) is the only thing that seems logical to me. The only other alternative is to lead an exhausting life of “sound and fury signifying nothing”. Why should you bust your ass trying to help friends & family who don’t appreciate you? Likewise, why should any of us bust our asses trying to help a corrupt human society that doesn’t appreciate us? A universe that doesn’t appreciate us? I’ll choose to vanish, not because I want to but because it’s the only choice that doesn’t disgust me.
Well that was bleak… I didn’t intend to launch into such a depressing rant, but what you said really spoke to me. Thanks. My condolences to you and all of us.