Reflections - 2/9

 Why am I so selfish? I've never done anything for anyone. I've never loved someone more than myself. And not romantically -- brotherly, filially, piously. I've never committed to one selfless act. From my birth until now, every single action is because I want to do what pleasures me. And I hate it. 

I've never liked vacations. I hated them. Hated hiking. Hated sightseeing. I remember when I was a junior in high school, I begrudgingly visited China for family issues. I guess going overseas doesn't appeal to me, but it was hard to do it without complaining. I want to complain less.

At the same time, I don't like it when other people do things for me. I hate celebrating my birthday. I hated graduation. I don't want to act like I accomplished these things when I know I owe it to my parents and my environment. 

I don't think, until recently, I did the dishes even once without complaining. Always complaining about chores. Always complaining to my parents. Always wanting to play more video games. Is this my privilege? That I have to lament these things instead of thinking about how to feed myself in the next meal? 

I worry that in the future, I will not be able to love, or find pleasure in doing things for other people. I still don't understand why girls like receiving flowers. Is it the fresh, sweet smell? The lightly moisturized petals? The beauty in its aesthetic value? The gesture itself? Or something more than these things? Sometimes, receiving these things can bring people to tears. If so, I don't think the value in receiving flowers is reducible to just the physical aspects. But still -- will I even be able to appreciate any such gesture in the future? Am I too desensitized to even understand what it means to give a bouquet? 

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