Enough about me!

I have had just about enough! My ever-extending social limits have been passed. A dreadful plague has infected a horrifyingly large majority of my peers, and I suddenly find myself unable to endure their behaviour any longer. It’s almost as if a memo has been handed out, one which I did not receive.

New hot topic to be discussed at all possible opportunities – me. I genuinely enjoy hearing other people’s stories, even when they tend to slope off on a various far-reaching tangent. Nonetheless, there comes a point when even the most patient can no longer tolerate the unfathomable heights to which this self-absorption has risen. I can still remember that time when some of my oldest and deepest friendships have inadvertently morphed into relationships which I can recall every detail of our conversation until I sleep, while they remain clueless about my current state of affairs. I assure you, this is not my fault. I would have loved to share all my wonderful news. The interest with which it is received, however, leaves a lot to be desired.

Fast forward to the present. I have absolutely no idea when it began or how it even became a “hot topic.” In one fell swoop, I have stumbled upon a war being waged, one of fierce competition and terrible high stakes: he who interrupts the other with more questions in a five minute interval takes home the price. I find myself in these positions more and more often, constantly assuming the weaker, defensive side, nursing an awful headache as my opponent engages in a solitary war, the voice getting progressively louder and the questions becoming more personal as my highly anticipated interruptions fail to surface.

Perhaps this sudden need to tell all can be attributed to the emphasis being placed on the now trendy notion of open communication. My friends always tell me to freely express my innermost thoughts and emotions, with the hopes that once everything has been unfurled, all will be well and nothing will be left to gnaw on my nerves. De-stressing in a nutshell.

Is it possible that this widely adopted method of self-psychoanalysis has begun to backfire, slowly evolving into a me-me-me virus, causing previously rationally-minded people to unload their personal baggage in all its forms onto whomever they happen to meet?

The “disease” is comprised of a set of rather disparate symptoms, one being the newly acquired inability to show any form of interest in the goings-on of others – unless, of course, they affect me. It’s rather distressing how a friend would come up to me, give me a blank look or say “um” while I read a book to myself, more often than not followed by an eager, “Ano bang balita sa iyo? Magkwento ka naman!” Not to be forgotten is the fervent complaining that I don’t give all the details and blind belief that kilig stuff only happens to me.

My fear is that after such prolonged periods of unprotected exposure, I will finally fall victim to the treacherous virus. My present state of benignity is floundering, giving way to a sharply honed exasperation. Such turbulent grounds may be too easy a prey for the all-consuming “me.” And so, this appeal is my last remaining form of combat. A last resort in the truest sense. I pray that the world of my friends will no longer revolve around me. May they rejuvenate that lost sense of social responsibility that lies deep within them and perhaps one day, we may all be saved.