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| Blogs > rockonpeterhuert > If this be my destiny |
Rude Mood
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Rude Mood Feeling fine to shitty in under three seconds. I think there is a certain mentallity that is only found in people that spend most of their time alone. Social interaction is something foreign akin to using chopsticks after years of forks and knives. Even though it appears I'm talking about a group of people, I guess I can only speak truthfully about me. But I think it helps soften the blow when one speaks about something, as if, objectively. If something bothers you to such a degree that you can't control your anger anymore, you could blow up. You could scream till your blue in the face, all white knuckle rage while you throw chairs and punch walls until you finally calm down. But these are all wastefull actions. Decisions that are more harmfull than helpfull... She couldn't remember who I was. Someone I had talked to a long time ago. Gotten to know. Tried my hardest to understand. Listened when she talked and made a point to be as helpfull as I could. I cheered her up when she felt down... And then I was down. She sent me a message to console me. She shared with me her experiences. And then she ended her letter, "I hope you feel better, Peter." What was I to do? I was so mad. There was nothing I could do. Was I supposed to say, "A+ my dear! A for effort. You've only succeeded in showing me that you're shallow, uncaring, and whatever determination you may have had in showing me any kind of consideration whatsoever must have been a front. So, if you're going to go through the motions of caring, do it with someone else. Don't get me wrong, I must thank you! You've shown me that I shouldn't care about anyone anymore. It's only a waste of time. Of the party listening, and mine."? Maybe not. A matter of fact, that's a bit cold. But I thought about it. Considered it thoroughly. I wrote the letter, and had it ready to go... but why? Why would I tell her how I felt? To continue the association with this phoney? Point to her her faults so that she and I could grow to have a meaningful relationship as better people? I don't think a leopard can change it's spots, no more so than people can change their habits. So I didn't send it, and I left her. I worked so hard to make friends with her. To be apart of her circle. They were nice people. Good people. But all in all, her people. So I left them as well. I often wondered if I had made a mistake. Maybe there was a way to make them understand how invisible they made me felt. But every time I thought about it, I knew they would never understand. Because they didn't think the way I did. They didn't know what it was like to be alone. Feeling sick... maybe I'm lazy, but I don't think you can explain that kind of stuff. It's just something you have to experience for yourself. I often listen to this one individual talk. "They like you, you know. They can relate to you. They think your funny." He says these things when he routes through my belongings. Tries to pick up those traits for the purpose of becoming popular. He does this for all sorts of reasons. He hated the jocks in high school, and the skaters. He hated the popular people because they had something he didn't. I don't think I should talk to this individual anymore because he wants to be me. When he goes through my things, he takes my colors, my feelings, my words... He uses them like tools to manipulate people. And it works. I help him sometimes. I don't know why. "She likes<b> cats </font></b>you know." "That person is interested in that kind of music." "they're related." "this person is dating so and so..." "...All you have to do is pretend to have the same interests... I call it phantom pioneering... pretending to be ahead of the pack. People immediately think you a leader." If these people are that simple to fall for these tricks, then they deserve each other. But, going through my things, my mind, isn't enough. Taking becomes easy, but giving is hard.... "Are you going to the G2G?" "Yes. To tell them I'm going to eat their food, then to arrive the next day to do so." "That's great! Ha ha ha, that's really funny." "I hate those people. They're so shallow..." "That's too bad. Maybe if they like'd you as much as me..." "I don't think I care anymore." But no one likes me... so when I say it, it's cold. It's gray. The sound of my words, a bitter sweet cacophony. It's okay to steal from me, because nobody knows I exist. I should leave these people. Sometimes I go around. To see what they were up to, I suppose. Maybe I miss them. I read their words. The pang of emptiness, a jarring experience. I read her words, and it takes me three seconds to go from feeling fine to shitty.Whatever aloof idea...That good feeling that propelled me through the long wait... The feeling of freedom as I walk into the afternoon sun, gone... spinning in a downward spiral of depression. In three seconds. |
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Why would I tell her how I felt? ....If you're a pussy, raised by your mom, no dad, that's what you would do. To continue the association with this phoney? .... Low self esteem. Many men in your generation have this low self esteem. You don't understand that there are women all over the place, and they are mostly only good for sexual entertainment, not committed relationships. Point to her her faults so that she and I could grow to have a meaningful relationship as better people? .... What for? ..... Go find a variety of different women, date them [have sex with them, don't buy them anything], and start building a harem. Think of it as a booty call harem. .... Don't laugh. If she is career minded , she doesn't have time for commitment either, and probably putting together her own bullpen. Now , it's time for you to man up.
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