I was seated amongst my peers, happy to be in their company, satisfying my social craving to be loved, appreciated, and invited into this fellowship.
It was the usual outing with the usual list of topics; weight loss, football, housemaids, people, rent, football, moving, people, buying cars, football, holiday spots, people and so forth. Everybody parades what they have, been up to, have done, trying to do, or planning to do. It might be to display their art of conversation, or maybe their art of living, but there is definitely an intention of display intended.
I find the amount of effort that I put to be noticed sickening. This subconscious, almost begging, feeling that I have to be included. I enjoy the attention I receive, and the one I give; but after every single outing, when I return home, I replay the whole setting in my head, what I said, why I said it, and how people reacted to it, and I curse the minute I yearned for people to take notice of me.
Halfway through the chatter I felt left out. They were verbally parading their belongings, their expenditures, their vain. I wanted to compete, to bounce words off them to feel better. I came closer and inhaled so as to speak. They saw that I have got something to say. They turned towards me, they wanted to know what I have, so they can benchmark themselves against it, and feel good about it.
I open my mouth and started “I’ve …”
Omar Ibn Al Khattab, the second khalifa of Islam after the Prophet Mohammad, once gathered the people in the mosque. The leader of the Islamic nation climbed on the platform and said “I am Omar Ibn Al Khattab, and I used to be a camel herder in my younger years, and I used to clean up their litter”. When the people inquired as to what might have crossed his mind, the leader of the nation, to gather the people and say these words he said “My self has spoken to me and said that I am Omar, the Prince of the Faithfuls (the term used to describe the Islamic leader), and I just wanted to remind myself and the people who I am.”
“I’ve got …”
I flustered to get the words out. I didn’t want to care what people thought of me. I didn’t want to indulge in this need to be appreciated. I sometimes wonder if people are more concerned with seeming happy, than being happy.
“… uh … uh … I’ve got …” I can see them inch closer, for it seemed that what I was going to say was of utmost importance and interest!
At times I feel that the most entertaining thing in life is that of the ego. The enjoyment of receiving attention and praise. We live in a time of very little achievements to be happy about, and then direct our efforts towards material belongings or historical family tales. People walk up and down an imaginary catwalk that is made up of words, all in hopes of over compensating a vast emptiness that we have inside. I wanted to express everything there is about me in a light that shines so bright that makes me feel almost unreal in my grandeur. I wanted to display myself in such a way that people will love me; in such a manner that will make them think of me in their spare time. I gathered my thoughts together and started ….
“I’ve got hemorrhoids”