Szimpatikus. It’s Hungarian. It is an untranslatable word. It basically means; “the feeling you get when you meet someone and know they’re a good person.”
I’m a little bit intoxicated right now, so prepare yourself for numerous spelling and grammatical errors, but the urge to write is overwhelming me.
Szimpatikus is my favourite word. The Hungarian people must be truly beautiful to need a word like that. I first learnt of it from a girl I met late last year. I’d been to school with her for half a decade but had failed to get to know her. My loss. I bumped into her in a wetherspoons while visiting my hometown, and I experienced szimpatikus that night, like I’d experience it numerous times over, but it wouldn’t be long before I finally understood what I was experiencing.
The reason for writing this now is that I’ve felt it once again. It’s an all too rare occurrence, but it does happen from time to time.
The latest is a girl I met through, brace yourself, tinder. I fucking hate tinder, God knows why I use it. It’s an ego boosting tool and nothing more. It’s not a dating app.
Sometimes I feel as though the universe has my back. It puts me in situations that seem utterly meaningless, but they prove to mean everything.
You may notice, if you’ve read all my posts, that I contradict myself continuously. I don’t believe in fate though, in certain of that, but I still doubt myself and my perception of reality.
Anyway, I spoke to this girl for a while and the other day I met her for the first time. Szimpatikus. I felt it again. It’s the greatest thing a person can feel.
I’m a cynic. I’ve abandoned my faith in morality, as well as in love, and all that is good and holy in this world. I view mankind as insignificant beasts. We eat and we sleep and we fuck and we die. That is life. And someday we will remain as nothing but ash and dust in the earth, and someday even the earth in which we rest will be no more. The universe will collapse in upon itself, and all of our reality, all we hold to be true, will be no more, thus life is meaningless.
Occasionally however I meet someone who makes me doubt this. Someone who defies my perception of reality, and forces me to question my view of the universe. I fight myself internally when it happens. In my soul I want to believe in goodness and the light, but experience and heartbreak have taught me that morality and goodness is a construct of the human mind, designed to help the self aware mind cope with its own insignificant impermanence.
I want to believe that good people exist. In fact, I know they do. They’re somewhere out there. It’s finding them, and preventing my primitive nature from driving them away that’s the problem. I’m drawn to those people, but I’m not one of them, nor will I ever be. I used to pretend I was, I’d convinced even myself of it, but now I’m not so sure.
I’m drunk, and I feel as though I’m starting to digress. I just wanted to write, because those people inspire something within me. I haven’t wrote a poem since I arrived in Canada, but tonight I shall not sleep, tonight I shall create, I shall dream, I shall praise whatever gods may be for this night and for those prophets of inspiration and hope, and I shall savour the szimpatikus.