My flatmates have finally begun to steal my food from the fridge. Perhaps I had it coming for not interacting much with them and spending a lot of days without letting them see me in the kitchen. I found a package of orange juice of mine partially consumed, and this time I’m dead sure it wasn’t me, because I’ve taken care not to leave anything open in there. The worst part is that I have no idea what to do now. We usually greet each other on seemingly friendly terms every time we meet, but now I’ll feel like crap doing it. I wonder if they didn’t expect me to notice, or they actually did and it was meant as a challenge, knowing I’ll be hard-pressed to complain, since they’re all very fit and muscular (not to mention much more experienced in the trials of life than me, despite being significantly younger) and can easily beat the crap out of me. As soon as it’s obvious I did notice, since I won’t be able to do anything about it, I’ll just be inviting more abuse from them, and there’s really no limit to what they can do.
BirdInFlight wrote:
Somebody young with theory-based opinions trying to invalidate real-life experiences and how things ACTUALLY play out, of not just myself but people I know.
Old people do it, too, systematically invalidating younger people’s direct experiences from the distance, resorting to the theory they built by greatly summarizing their own vast experience with
different situations, and the authority this affords them.
It’s extra funny when the old people doing it are the same ones who’ve always made a point not to tolerate it from the younger people.
_________________
The red lake has been forgotten. A dust devil stuns you long enough to shroud forever those last shards of wisdom. The breeze rocking this forlorn wasteland whispers in your ears, “Não resta mais que uma sombra”.