Don't hang out with people who are:UngratefulUnhelpfulUnrulyUnkindlyUnlovingUnambitiousUnmotivatedor make you feel...Uncomfortable
It’s easy to count other people’s mistakes. Make your own if you can.
My point is this — you don't know. When I was first here, people looked at my hair, noticed apples on my tray, and thought 'hippie.' Then, from 'hippie' they thought 'druggie.' From there it went to 'will get me in trouble' and 'not worth my time,' and then they stopped thinking at all. No one bothered to find out if what they thought about me was true. No one wanted to hear what I thought. No one cared what I believed in. No one cared about talking to me or asking what my plans were for the day or night. And then came you. Don't let what you think you know make him into what I could have been. Don't become someone who doesn't think, just because you don't like him for some reason. Because, quite frankly, I like how you think. Except for now, of course.
They drain you sometimes. They really do. "What's it all about then mate? What's the secret of life? You should know. You're a fucking cab driver." Yeah, right. (As if I'll learn the secret of life talking to arseholes like you all night). "Got any saucepan lids, mate? I've got two. I hate them. Bastards, they are. Ruined my life. I hate the bastards."I keep quiet "Don't try and rip us off, mate. I've got a key between my knuckles." (Whatever). The life of a cab driver. Glimpses into other people's lives.
Change needs us. Change needs people who are willing to invest themselves and their time and their energy and all that they can in making it happen. And, remember, if we don’t quit; if we choose to walk the more difficult path; if we refuse to give up, no matter how long the road or how steep the climb; we will make change happen.
Your special spiritual gifts and talents are your calling.
Anxiety kicked in. I lacked people skills all my life. Any normal human interaction was foreign to me. I don’t know what to say, to not look like a major dork or something. I am weird like that. Always were.The dead – that’s a whole other world we’re talking about. They can’t interfere with my everyday life, other than to annoy me. I can be myself around the dead. The dead are good. The living? Not so much.
For know you, child, I have that faculty which is better than any one sense, better than a perfect body, better than courage and will, better than experience, ordinarily the best product of the longest lives—the faculty divinest of men, but which”—he stopped, and laughed again, not bitterly, but with real zest—“but which even the great do not sufficiently account, while with the herd it is a non-existent—the faculty of drawing men to my purpose and holding them faithfully to its achievement, by which, as against things to be done, I multiply myself into hundreds and thousands.
Being with other people is hard for me, even when I love them. People have different ways of seeing and feeling, and things they like and things they don't, and trying to keep up with all of that- trying to keep another person happy all the time--can be exhausting.