"Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful"

Sometimes, they don't dislike you because of something you supposedly, just maybe, may or may not have even "done wrong" to begin with. Sometimes someone or other in your life just can't stand the sight of you because you may actually possess something that they themselves do not, or something (such as a talent or some other all too obvious virtue - even if it's only innocence) that they might not have in quite such glaring abundance.

Maybe you're just too pretty. Maybe you're just too smart. Maybe you're none of the above. Maybe you're just plain average, but the fault actually lies within them, and not you. Therefore, maybe they themselves feel an overwhelming deficit, a deep chasm in the pit of their very soul, and the only way they can feel better about the sorry state of their own wretched existence is to put others down, just to feel even just a little bit bigger, or so-called "better" than everyone else.

Sometimes it's just because of someone or other in their own past who despised them for no particularly good reason - other than pure, instinctual, bad old fashioned jealousy, that is. You know, envy. Spite. And they are already angry on the inside because maybe... like a lot of us, "Life just doesn't seem fair." Sometimes. Sometimes for healthy folks, but not so much for the mentally ill, the perpetually self-tortured.

So... that right there is actually all the excuse in the world that some sad people might need to hate your stinking guts - and then treat you accordingly. But then... I guess that's just some people for ya. Hmm. 🤨

On the Nature of Time and Timelessness

In fact, I pity those who fail to see the beauty, the wisdom, the timeless splendor, of all things that are not merely "old," but may linger still, because they have somehow managed to stand the often cruel test of time - where so many other fleeting human works of whimsy have long since been all but forgotten. Yes, the movie might be "old," the song may not be the latest or greatest version, the once prettiest little girl in the class may now gaze at time-withered hands through the myopic prism of tired, ancient eyes, and some of the very best books ever written may have been patiently lying in wait on a dusty shelf for decades, or even centuries, to finally be savored anew by a blissfully unsuspecting generation of foolhardy initiates - the latest model, the youngest brood yet still unripe enough to fancy themselves prematurely "wise" - but... why then, does it often seem that only the very old and the very young know the true value of even the simplest, most deceptively mundane of such things?