Less Strings Attached

One year more and I will be reaching thirty but I still ditch people from my life every now and then. Popular wisdom tells someone near this age, when dealing with confrontation, should be docile, calm, and gentle. I embrace the idea and put it into practice all right, letting the bear with the sore head growl. Unbeknownst to them, as I walk away, I have ended all connections with them. From then on, they are no longer exist, unimportant, insignificant like a speck of dust in the universe. In social media, that would be a single click that removes the victim's account from my friends list. Pathetic it may sound, I cut the connection in real world as well. It has crossed my mind that my puny body on the deathbed would not be accompanied by many people because of that. Malaysia population is approximately thirty million. Thirty million antics to deal with. Sorting them into several groups with whom I am comfortable to deal, taking accounts differences of skin colour, culture and faiths, sexual orientation, age, nature of profession, political views, hobbies, etc.; that would leave me only a handful. A handful of people making a fragile network like criss-crossing cotton strings tied to pins pricked at random points on a softboard like seen in movies; one pin holds a photo of one man and the string connects to another. The strings sketch possible interaction between people; glimpses, silent judgment, small talk, casual conversation, pretentious laugh, argument now that the string is outstretched then broken making them become strangers once again. I am the gray pin over there positioned somewhere at the corner, separated from others by huge gaps at all sides, silently observing in solitude and peace. That huge ball of cotton strings down there is not important to me anymore.