Little nothings for little people

I have no idea why. It is maybe because we were brought up in the spirit of enjoying little pleasures, of comforting ourselves with tiny happiness(es), or that we were taught it should be the small things that give us a joyful state of mind, that we drown forever in this littleness.
We choose to talk little. I'm not speaking about quantity, shoot, who am I to say that? I am not even speaking about tone or emphasis, but about content. We speak about all the nonsense, we gossip till we lose our breath, we even discuss weather or food like huge topics. But the important stuff, we choose to ignore. Because of course, in our Lilliputian thinking, not talking about something big makes it go away. Just like that, like a charm. Because it is oh such a charming little world, this world we live in. I would like to shake this fake charm away with my rough talking about all the big and disturbing subjects.
As an appendix to talking, there is the complaining. We would complain about all the little things: a bitter salad, a broken nail, a day too warm, the wrong color or fit of a pair of pants, but we would never take off our chest the big stones. We feel as if throwing away a handful of dust from our rusty being fixes it, but the huge rocks stay there. Is it because we always fear that the objects of our affection(which prove to be so many and so scattered) might somehow find themselves in the rock's trajectory? I myself would like to be able to complain about all the things that really upset me, and less about all the trivia that make me come across as a spoiled princess.
We listen little, we just smile dumbly when someone throws the aforementioned dust. And let everything slide past our ears. Who knows, maybe it is just a way of protection against the rocks that might tumble unintentionally towards us. Or maybe it's just carelessness. We're just plainly too little to differentiate between.
We take little advice. Of course, we would ask for advice concerning all the stupid things, giving away the impression that we are so very interested in the others' opinion. But for the big stuff, well, no advice whatsoever.
We give little. We boast with pretence of altruism, we ask for loads of affection, love, understanding, patience, but we give very little in return. And when we don't get the greatness we ask for, we pout like babies, taking away even the littleness we were willing to give in the first place. Taking our toys and leaving the playground. And this leaving, going back and forth leads us to expecting less and less in time. And to feeling less and less.
We hug a little, touch a little, and then run a little. We commit a little,surrender just as much, and then become a little defensive. We suffocate a little from the little worries and forget a little about the big picture. We give up a little on ourselves and then give up a little more on the others.
We laugh a little, cry a little, we're a little angry, we're a little excited, we get a little scared, then we gather a little courage, that at the end of the day gets us into a little trouble. We have all these little problems that make us die a little inside. While we're living big our little lives.
I guess this might be disturbing,but I'm just not happy with being a little happy. Come on, be a big fish with me in this little pond.

Cri's Fruity Meltdown. Copyrighted recipe

I had been yearning for something sweet for some days. Since I am trying to get at least something right in my uberdramatic life(where nothing seems to work my way, but this is a recurring theme, check iwishistoppedcomplainingallthetime.cri to find out more), and my diet seems most in-reach, I said no to the oh-so-tempting-wide-wide range of Norwegian sweets and figured out that I can only accept something done by my two little skilled hands. Of course, I am such a hypocrite now, I will so miss the oh-so-tempting Norwegian sweets. But hypocrisy is, again, a recurring theme.

So what have I thought?Great idea, of course. I got rid of the last(!!!) ever exam in my student life, so I reckoned, why not prepare something, to emphasize this ending. Just for myself, to enjoy alone. And what more apropriate than a traditional meltdown?

I already had some of the ingredients. The aforementioned hypocrisy. But wait, mine was not enough so I had to borrow. No worries, there was plenty available, people are more than willing to give you some. I added some tablespoons of disappointment, both in myself and in the others. Never underestimate the mix of different flavors. Then I went crazy with one cup of self-loathing and one of misunderstandings. Misunderstandings are a species of conflicts, which, like the wine, become better in time. Needless to say that in such an upsidedown recipe and mind overall, the scales of "goodness" are also messed up. Since I lacked sense of direction, I was forced to replace it with a few insecurities. When I saw how perfectly they blend, I added them all. What else is there? A sprinkle of unfulfilled desires, a bit of frustration, a touch of denial and a little bag of sick love. Only at the end I realized that I had put all these together, but they were all dry products. Dust to dust. So I had to improvise with some drops of angry tears to have a homogenous mix: The Meltdown!

To be served with bitter bitter chocolate and fresh fruit. Not to be shared, it's rather a selfish dish. And to be accompanied with nerdy pop-rock.
The recipe is hard to recreate, but no worries, it can turn out quite successful even if you miss some of the constituents. No need to follow mine, one can give it a personal twist. How easily one obtains it is somehow inversely proportional with one's own inner strenght. I myself don't fancy meltdowns too often, I find it really hard to diger them, but after I do, I do feel lighthearted and ready to go a while without such sweets. And promise myself that there will not be a next time, unless there is a menacing pile of perfect ingredients. And from time to time there is.

If you're too coldhearted, or just too happy, just go with a plate of fresh fruit. Like this.