Direction is irrelevant

I am sitting in a very cold room. There are a great number of negative things I could say about this room, and why I'm sitting here, and what it means to be sitting here, but the only negative I'll dwell on is that it is cold, and the cold is making me unpleasant. But not unpleasant enough to make me unfriendly, or difficult to be around, or at least I hope it doesn't. I, like many people, like to think of myself as an easy going member of the community, who is enjoyable to be around, and can be valued, and even cherished. These are the hopes I would have for my personality. Sometimes I feel like personality can be detached from ourselves, like it's a thing that lingers above our heads. It isn't though. 

I often wonder how many people don't like me. People who have met me and decided they didn't need me in their life, that my personality, the one attached to me, was one they could do without. I wonder why they could do without it, and remember that no one can like everyone all the time. It's just the way it is. I certainly don't like everyone. Hell, as I get older, I like having fewer and fewer people around me. I guess that's why I feel so lucky when I'm with the handful of people I love, because they've chosen to spend the little time they have on God's green earth with little old me. It's a strange thing to conceptualize, the choice of what to do with the fleeting minutes of our lives. So often we're "bored" or "lonely" or reaching to do something interesting, when in reality just being should be good enough. 

For now I'm just going to be cold in this room and be happy with that.