My words are tied tight on my tongue I can’t release from my mouth what I am trying to say. A simple “thank you,” a heartfelt “salamat,” or an amusing “tenchu” must be enough but these alone have a hard time departing from my mind; they're still enclosed within the tasking requirement on decision-making of “to say” and “not to say”. They remain as subconscious, abstract efforts of appreciation that on the outer surface, I consequently look like a passive, ungrateful ingrate.
Though I have yet to appropriately say these words of gratitude tomorrow, the uneasy feeling makes me contemplate on this matter right at this moment. I don’t know why but, maybe, it must be brought about by this fear that I may be misunderstood. This sounds selfish but considering that a being’s complexity goes beyond midlevel understanding that all—even the most brilliant of minds—tend to be shallow, my point may be justifiable (or maybe not to some). Okay, straightforwardly, it’s somewhat a special day tomorrow and the inevitable mushy greetings will flood my cellphone’s inbox and ring my ears.
Though I have yet to appropriately say these words of gratitude tomorrow, the uneasy feeling makes me contemplate on this matter right at this moment. I don’t know why but, maybe, it must be brought about by this fear that I may be misunderstood. This sounds selfish but considering that a being’s complexity goes beyond midlevel understanding that all—even the most brilliant of minds—tend to be shallow, my point may be justifiable (or maybe not to some). Okay, straightforwardly, it’s somewhat a special day tomorrow and the inevitable mushy greetings will flood my cellphone’s inbox and ring my ears.
Oftentimes, I do not respond to these messages thinking it would just be a waste of my thumbs’ and my voice box’s effort. And this is my problem: because I am not a fully-developed responsive person, in the viewpoint of other people, I become a snob. Fine, I can get through with that but the issue here is that someone’s assessment of me shifts to exaggeration and may affect other people’s judgment; especially people who are dear important to me. That’s why I have this teensy-weensy fear.
On the following day when time just normally passes by as the young wrinkles on my face start to branch out like feisty children running around the playground, I am indeed thankful to all those who sincerely worry, who greets me, and who tries very hard to discern my convoluted character despite my being overly insipid. Maybe tomorrow I will still stay unresponsive to your sentiments, but I tell you, silence may be a sign of foreboding but, really, it’s the thought and the untold appreciation that count. Thanks for everything.
On the following day when time just normally passes by as the young wrinkles on my face start to branch out like feisty children running around the playground, I am indeed thankful to all those who sincerely worry, who greets me, and who tries very hard to discern my convoluted character despite my being overly insipid. Maybe tomorrow I will still stay unresponsive to your sentiments, but I tell you, silence may be a sign of foreboding but, really, it’s the thought and the untold appreciation that count. Thanks for everything.
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