Life's Mosquitoes

No one comes into our lives without a purpose. (Unintentional) End, I should say. No one really ever has a purpose, at least, not a real one. Therefore: no one comes into our lives without an End.

Minus the mosquitoes of life.

Those people who don't make much difference being present or festering in a dark corner, but who always find time to prick the bull's balls. Those people who are always fatiguing and making others sick but never expect to be unwanted by the sane people who lose their sanity with every second they spend with these little beasts of disproportionate courage, or conceit.

But despite what I may be making it sound like, it's not as if these bugs have much importance. They matter very little. But nobody likes trying to rest in the company of an nagging mosquito.

I know some of these little buggers. I honestly feel sorry for them. But also a lot of hate, a lot of resentment. One part of me wants them to die. The other, cowardly part, doesn't even try to slap him a bullet. And I put up with them. Until, finally, I muster up the courage and actually wave my hand in front of my face. Ironic and almost sarcastically, I usually get stung then. They send out little insults, like that annoying kid who every parent would like to give a "pat" or two. Some leave bumps and itches. But it doesn't take long for the skin to return to normal. All you have to do is not scratch. And it doesn't go beyond that either, the skin. The superficiality of their attacks is almost on a par with their existence.

And there is also a third part, which is only possible when the person is part man, part mosquito. Or rather, there are moments when he stops being a mosquito to to show their human side. That third party is the part that empathises with them. It is also the rarest part, in fact, it is very rare. Often resentment is stronger than this feeling (almost always).

And of course, we can all be mosquitoes without even realising it. I just wanted to make that clear. It takes constant introspection to make sure we're not bugs too. The alternative is to bathe in hypocrisy which in itself is something horrendous and the looks of a mosquito certainly won't help. This is also why a little empathy is needed, even though it is (and I know it is) a seriously difficult task.

It took me some time to realise that mosquitoes are just that: mosquitoes. They are boring and shallow and will remain so until they realise that they are (and maybe even then they won't stop being so).

They are not worth it. They are not worth our attention. They are not worth our hatred or our resentment. I would even say that it is more worth it to let ourselves be bitten and endure a bit of itching for a few hours. The mosquito doesn't bug those who are used to it. And those who are not yet used to it have nothing to lose.

But therein lies the problem, it's hard to get used to mosquitoes, it seems to me that they try to make sure that doesn't happen. The ones I know tend to disappear in the confusion of life, but there are exceptions. And those exceptions tend to gain strength with every bite they take. And each time they're closer to wasps. Or at least that's what they think and what they make out to be. It is up to us to see them as such.

And then the question arises: will we let something so insignificant stain our day? Will we let the mosquito metamorphose into a wasp at the expense of our attention? Something that doesn't even have an End to provide to our life?

It doesn't seem wise to me.