“… the selfishness of the perfectionist (workaholic) is much more subtle. While he is out in society saving humanity at a work pace of eighty to a hundred hours a week, he is selfishly ignoring his wife and children. He is burying his emotions and working like a computerized robot. He helps mankind partially out of love and compassion, but mostly as an unconscious compensation for his insecurity, and as a means of fulfilling both his strong need for society’s approval and his driving urge to be perfect. He is self-critical and deep within himself feels inferior. He feels like a nobody, and spends the bulk of his life working at a frantic pace to prove to himself that he is really not (as he suspects deep within) a nobody. In his own eyes, and in the eyes of society, he is the epitome of human dedication. … He becomes angry when his wife and children place demands on him. He can’t understand how they could have the nerve to call such an unselfish, dedicated servant a selfish husband and father. … In reality, his wife and children are correct, and they are suffering severely because of his subtle selfishness.” -Minirth and Meier
you know, honestly, i don't know why i write. especially on a blog...it's one blog, one minuscule blog in an entire database of information called the interweb. i don't know why i bother. it just doubles the fact that i am one person in a world of other people and my thoughts are also just one minuscule cluster of opinions. no one cares. and if they care to read just one sentence, that sentence will dissolve from their memory the moment they leave my blog page. i am forgotten, as the people i meet on the streets every day. i see someone different every single day yet i cannot remember any one of their faces. and i am sure i will never meet them again.
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