The Myriad Were

Inspired in the past by future events.

The myriad were

The way we stare

The hind of fly

In my mind's eye

The wind of change

Must rearrange

My thinking to see

The sense of free

The time alone

Was set to one

Yet safe to be

The test of me

Will anyone see

How to decree

How much i feel

To be so real

And see the face

And leave no trace

Sensation

Impression

Duration

Deflection

Surreal

The feel

The kiss

Remiss

To know

Don't go

To say

The way

Remake

No fake

Dissolve

Revolve

Re-do

To you

Your ball

Your turn

No points

To burn

To receive

The reprieve

Initiate

My fate

To see

The real me

 S-?

discovery - the beginning.... maybe

"what are we doing?"

"the answer to that question has not changed since the last time you asked it, B, really."

"What do you expect from me? We're here. HERE - of all places. Why? What can we possibly hope to accomplish with this endeavor?"

"I do not know. You know that I do not know. You knew before you asked the question. We are here. The why does not matter. We simply are."

"Maybe it does, S, really. Maybe that's why we are here. Maybe we're supposed to question. You know we were never supposed to come back here. You know that was the vow. It's forbidden. This place is not only off limits - who knows what would happen if we were caught here. I don't even like admitting it to myself, much less talking about this place out loud, but-

"Yes, that is a grand idea. Why not try keeping those meandering thoughts of yours a little quieter. Possibly silent altogether. Hmm? Why don't we give that a try, B?"

B mumbles to himself something inaudible ....

S casts a sharp glare - "What was that? Were you speaking to me? No? Very well. We need to move."

"That's just it!!!! Move WHERE?!? I don't understand why we are moving at all.... or what we are doing. Do we have some kind of mission? Is there something we're supposed to uncover or learn or ANYTHING? I just need to know - this makes no sense. Usually when WE are deployed, we have a, you know, job to do - a task, as mission, a directive - SOME DIRECTION... I don't know, maybe you know where we're going, you seem pretty driven to saunter off in this general direction.... do YOU know where we are going or why we're here or what we're looking for?"

S stops, lowers his head and takes in a deep breath. There is a pause. He then turns to B - "B. I understand you are frustrated. I understand what you are saying and can see the point you are making and a valid point it is. The truth is just this - we do not have any directive. We are here to learn what we are here to learn. Whether we stumble across it in a literal sense or it comes to us out of thin air." B opens his mouth, gestures with his hand, begins to interrupt but S cuts him off - "Yes, I know, this area was supposed to have been "taken care of" - it should no longer exist. The fact that it does means something, someone, somewhere was wrong. We have to find out what that is. Yes, I am aware that in a few day from now, this whole situation will be moot. We must be out of here by then, hopefully with an answer. Which we will most likely find MUCH faster if you would stop with the incessant questioning and complaining. And I never saunter. "

B gathers his cloak around him and turns sharply away as if he were looking to the cold wind for reassurance, at the same time, trying to prevent as much heat loss as he can.

"What are you doing? You are not cold. You do not get cold. In fact, this whole charade - why? What purpose does it possibly serve?"

"It's fun. Don't you remember fun? doood! FUN!! - there's nothing wrong with having some fun. Besides, this place is so desolate, so barren, so void of any and every thing - I don't know, just looking out across that landscape gives me shivers. And speaking of "charades"" B mimics the use of the word with exaggerated air quotes and unnecessary inflection on the word - "why ask me that? You already knew. Seems like someone is playing a role as well..." B winks, "eh? EHH?! yeah, you're having fun"

A perceptive person, had they been able to witness this exchange, might have noticed the corner of the mouth rise, ever so slightly, on the man known only as S...

Gliding

White, Black, Blue, Bright
Happy, Sad, Dark, Light
No direction in this Stream of C
No intention and cause to me
Wandering about here and there
Wondering about how it's fair
Where can I be without you
No time for me 1 or 2
Split in two, four or six
This one problem, I can't fix
Not on my own and without you
I don't know how or what to do
I don't know what or how to say
I miss you now and every day
These rhymes are simple but from the heart
Stand together or fall apart


Trd32416

imprint

I heard some advice once talking about steroids... and this seems real familiar, so I may have already written about it... don't know, don't really care right now. Anyway, the point was that you shouldn't identify with that version of you - in other words, you shouldn't use that to help define who you are... because at some point you will have to stop doing that, and then what? Suddenly you have an identity crisis? but then if you look at it, can't you say that about anything? everything? nothing lasts forever, so aren't we at risk for suddenly losing everything we use to make up who we are? I like music. I look for musical styles and compositions that reflect who I am and the mood I'm in at the time - and in doing so, I am using music to help define me as a person .... but what if I wake up deaf tomorrow? I no longer have that option of having music define me... this scenario is infinite - I guess really, what I'm wondering is what should we use to define who we are? experiences? beliefs? morals? judgment? none of that is permanent - all of it can change so then are we ever really who we think we are? if the foundataion on which we build our personalities is mutable, then how can we ever really be sure of who we are? Or maybe we just continue down the road on auto pilot - basing our identity on the last thing we were able to use for that identity - the last known good, as it were... life imitating art, imitating life, imitating art.... ad infinitum

"...I take one, one, one cause you left me
and two, two, two for my family,
and three, three, three for my heartache,
and four, four, four for my headache,
and five, five, five for my lonely,
and six, six, six, for my sorrow
and seven, seven, n-n-n-no tomorrow
and eight, eight, I forget what eight was for
and nine, nine, nine for a lost god
ten, ten, ten, ten, for EVERYTHING EVERYTHING EVERYTHING EVERYTHING..."

-Violent Femmes

Reach

sitting here, surrounded by all the swirling thoughts in my head, I managed to see a pattern. I think the one thing they all have in common is contact. I don't know ... I think what I would like is to be understood... to know that even as I am surrounded by my fellow man that I am not a stranger, I am not walking down this road alone ... I don't know what to do or how to make that connection.... my reach isn't enough, their hands phase through mine, or maybe mine through theirs... who is really real and who is the imagination? I'm not sure anymore... a succession of words, a nonsensical thought pattern, glazed eyes, blank expressions, vague smile... apologetic - it's cool, I don't expect you to understand. no one ever really does. ... it's just times like this, when I stop, look around, realize the moment and consider the future... play the game with myself where I pretend not to think about the monotony that lies ahead... get lost in all the stories within the stories, follow the stream of consciousness, let one moment follow the other and pass me by... then, eventually, there will be a brief distraction, a light on my face, a smile... and just as certain, the realization that it was just a ghost - an echo from the past and the smile fades and reality sets in, understanding, awareness, third person persepctive - you look around and you are surrounded by emptiness .... and realize that it was all in your mind - the companionship, the reassurance, the feeling that you are accepted, you have a purpose, you matter ... and you are understood.... none of it was ever true, reality blurs, identity fades, it all becomes just another swirling moment in time ... then it passes

well I know it will be alright if I just get on the road
if I run I can free my worried mind
I know the day I die I will lose my heavy load
but I wouldn't want to leave you behind
-semisonic, "If I Run"

"...what have I become? My sweetest friend - everyone I know goes away in the end. You can have it all: My empire of dirt - I will let you down, I will make you hurt."

Worthless POS

I seriously haven't hated life this much in a LONG time.

I was thinking about a conversation I had with someone the other day, Re: relationships. 

His innocuous comment was that relationships need work. Nothing I haven't heard before. A common notion and I don't know, probably good advice. I am not someone who has any kind of experience in such matters. So I wouldn't know if it is or not.

what that says to me, and this is part of the problem - in order to be in a relationship, I have to change. The default version of me - what makes me me, my personality all the atoms and thoughts and cells, collectively known as "My Name" are not compatible with another human. I don't make the cut for companionship.

My initial reaction to that is why? Why is society ok with this concept? the colloquial response is, "relationships need work" - which is code for saying "you are such a shitty excuse for a human being, no one wants to be with you, you have to change who you are"

Nobody stops to ask why? Nobody takes a second to think "hang on, why is it universally accepted that if I expect any kind of success with another human being that *I* have to change?" Because it is always fucking one sided. People say "we have to work to make it work" ... then they sit back in their figurative chair, cross their legs and watch as YOU change who YOU are and they remain the same with NO effort at all. Why? Why is that ok? 

Do you know how many people I have murdered in my life? none. Not in reality anyway. Do you know how many cats I have tied up by their tails, covered with kerosene and lit on fire while I swung them from a pole? Exactly 0. That's in reality and in my imagination. 0. Granted, I do laugh my ass off at videos of babies getting knocked over by dogs, or being hit in the face by giant beach balls ... because that's just funny. Babies are uncoordinated and oblivious and it is funny to see them wipe out. Stoopid babies. But that just means I have a questionable sense of humor. Well, it's my sense of humor, it isn't meant to entertain anyone but me. My point here is, I'm not a bad person. I am just not the person other people want me to be. That  makes me incompatible and it means I need to change, according to everyone else. I guess if I want to do well in this game, I have to change. If I want to be a good member of society, I need to change. If I want to be a productive member of the family of humans, I really need to put forth the effort and make a change. Here's the problem with that... those things I just typed - they are from the perspective of other people. Why in the name of the magic zombie in the sky would I base my very existence on the perspective of OTHER PEOPLE? how does that make any sense at all? I'm not trying to be all separatist or xenophobic - I know there has to be some compromise, some effort in order for human beings to exist on the same planet and not live under a blanket of chaos. I'm not talking about a global scale.... or maybe I am. I don't fucking know anymore and I'm not sure it's worth the energy required to care. My good years are behind me anyway. Seven BILLION people - no one is siting around thinking "man, what I need is a dude who is passed his prime and really has nothing to bring to the table. And he should spend way too much time inside his head." so why should I change? Where is the fucking incentive? In fact I'm not sure what the point is in waking to a new day. I don't really see the appeal any more but every day it happens, not sure why but there it is

The Monster In Me

I am a terrible devourer of men
bloodthirsty and cruel to the very end
my pulse quickens on every kill
death and destruction, they are my will

my appetite is never quite satisfied
I always have a spare body set aside
my victims beg and plea to no avail
the dead in my eyes take them straight to hell

I feel I have been pushed over the edge now
no reason to hold back or calm it down
words have no meaning and it doesn't matter what I say
my voice makes no sound so you can't hear me anyway

this isn't what I want and it never was
what I wanted didn't matter and it never does
warnings were posted and promptly ignored
if you want to know the score just look at the board

control is the trigger that unleashes the beast
the deed is done, now it's time to feast
my actions are primal, they are not fun
now back to my cave, party of one


Triad.15.6

Love is a drug dealer

"...unrequited love really is as horrible as it is always made out to be in books and movies. To feel so much for someone... but always at a distance, knowing they will never fully understand or possibly care how you really felt..."

See, i am more comfortable with that Pain and Misery you just described. They're convenient. They're  unrelenting. They are a good, reliable companion. They are symbiotic. They need you as much as you need companionship. Your love is unrequited. Pain and Misery feed on those emotions and dispose of them for you. Pain and Misery are much more familiar to me than love. Love is flighty, unreliable. Love will walk with you to the breathtaking view of the mountain overlook, and push you off. Love doesn't need anyone, shares no symbiosis with anyone. Serves no one but itself. It is a wolf in sheep's clothing and that clothing is laced with a sweet smelling, highly addictive pheromone that causes you to lose the ability to make sound decisions. 

Wax on, Wane off...

Why is it so wrong to desperately want to be with someone for a while, like maybe over the course of a few weeks, then desperately want to be alone for as long? Possibly longer. Do you realize how difficult it is to find someone - A)that I actually enjoy being around and am romantically attracted to and B)who understands my twisted sense of reality? I don't enjoy spending all my time alone, but when faced with the choice of that or finding someone, and being unhappy during those times when I do want to be alone, I choose the former over the latter. I just wish there was someone out there who understood what it's like to not want to be around people all the time. Even one people. I don't see why that's such a politically incorrect, taboo way to be. It's not that I am antisocial. It's just that being around a large group of people for long periods, or even one person on a daily basis, drains my energy. It makes me uncomfortable and irritable. Unfortunately, it's easier to deal with being alone than it is to deal with the drain of being around people.

"....and my memory feeds my soul, with all the things you said...."

Just one more reference that is dear to me, that no one I know will get. Which in itself is a moot point because .... what's the fucking point? not originally how I was going to end that thought, but seriously? What *is* the fucking point? Why do human beings bother trying to see the next day? As far as I can tell, our sole reason for being, I say "our" as if I am accepted by or consider myself a part of this fucked society and on a grander scale, the human race.... regardless, as I was saying - from what I can tell most people exist to experience something new, then move on to the next thing. Is that the whole secret of being happy? To have a new thing, grow to be accustomed to that (read: bored) then move on to something else? Or is it all about selfish desires? Getting what you want, moving on to something else. If you get right down to it, that's what motivates everyone. Even the most selfless of actions - actions are all motivated by selfish desires. Feeding the homeless - "I want these homeless to be fed" - I want them to be warm, happy, etc - because it makes you feel good as a person to know you helped someone else - selfish desire. shrug. Who cares? does it ever really make any difference? any of it? other than making someone feel good about himself or herself. The delusion of importance. And it is a delusion. No one is really important as an individual. we exist to serve as a whole and that's the only reason - because of society. If we were solitary in nature, we would live out as hermits, by ourselves, not needing or wanting the companionship of other humans, and THEN we as individuals would mean something. As it is now, we don't. We serve only one purpose - to grease the cogs for the corporate machine. The way we exist now, we serve only to make rich people richer. Living in the illusion of freedom, as if we have free will, still. You have no free-anything. Your identity is not yours. Your will is not yours. Your belongings are not yours. You own nothing and stand for even less. You are who they tell you to be, you say what they want you to. I'm sick of this kind of reality.

"...just want to watch the world burn...."

Futility. I think that's the theme that keeps coming back to me. It's funny, growing up you have an idea of how things are - you create a reality from your experiences as you grow and you assume that is the way of things. It never occurs to you to consider the possibility that you didn't have things figured correctly... or that the way you had them figured could change.... throughout your entire life you just assumed "If a + b then AB" but it may as well be "If A+sideways then tuesday". but even that.... even the epiphany of possibly being wrong... not even that matters. I'm not sure what it says for a person to have such big, important thoughts but nothing about that person, not even the thoughts actually matters. Worthless. Imagine for a moment if, say, abraham lincoln would have died in his teens or early twenties. Things would have changed. History - as we know it in this particular river of reality, would be different.... but there are people who if they just suddenly died would have 0 effect on the outcome of the particular vein of time in which they exist. It will still go on and continue unabated. What must that feel like to be that person and to have the awareness of that truth? To know that no philosophy you come up with, no story you write, no physical thing you make will ever matter. No thing you say no thing you think. Of all the people you have ever met, no one is better off for having met you. For that matter, you could say no one is any worse off either. After you are dead and gone, the fact that you were ever alive will not matter. So why prolong it? What kind of masochistic personalities do people have that they willingly inflict that sort of torturous pain upon themselves? And what does that say about human life on the planet? The fact that only a handful of the people who are alive will actually matter. The rest of the people alive serve to do what? eat? take up space? why? Why is this the reality of the world in which we live? Why doesn't everyone strive to matter in some way? That's a sisyphean task to be sure.... and sometimes we just want to laugh... sometimes we just want to watch the world burn.

And island of one

Without getting all melodramatic and overstating shit for effect, yeah, I guess on a daily basis there are some comforting interactions with other people. But at the same time there are interactions with people which you think should go off without a hitch, which you think should be positive and pretty straight forward and those are the ones that get all fucked up. People take things the wrong way, people misunderstand or simply fail to communicate....

Consider this for a moment, what if the people in your life right now were the only people to be in your life from now on? What if you never met another new person - not a stranger or a co worker - when I say a "new person" someone whom you allow in to your inner circle someone you trust and share things with - someone who wants to get to know you and allows you to do the same. Then consider for a moment, are the people who are in your life, permanent. Probably not.. few people are ever, really permanent. I don't know where I'm going with this or what my point actually is... I guess ultimately it comes down to wondering how people see me. My impression of me from a third person perspective. I don't know, most of the time I don't care about being alone, but for whatever reason I am going through some kind of thing where i would, really, like to have that mutual energy exchange that two people who are getting to know one another have. I don't generally make good first impressions, I either come off as shy or aloof or weird and abstract. I am not even sure my actual friends of whom I have only a handful, know how to take me. If .... I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter. None of it matters, really. One hundred years from now...

Moxy.... the beginning

"Moxy had one more bad poundin in her head. That knock she took from those two strongarms made her see stars... 'Apple must have sent them to deliver a message', she thought, over the sound of the streetcar, the hustle and bustle of the city's working class, the smell of the freshly drenched streets, the way the buildings look when bathed in a combination of moonlight and streetlamp glow, "this city makes sense... it's real, where I belong. But Apple? Apple Tangerine Moonbeamdream Travolta. Don't let the name fool you, old girl, he belongs to this city as much as you do..." She comes to the dead end of a dimly lit, putrid smelling ally. "Password"? She hears, as if the heavy night air had spoken from the darkness... "umm... dammit...oh, 'North West Hammerstyle'. A door swings open, revealing a smoky, loud, yet dimly lit speak easy... "Apple is waiting for you..."

                     Upon her entry, the speakeasy goes quiet. Piano stops, conversations cease, glasses seem to make no noise... the smoke hangs in the air, as if time itself has crawled to a fraction of its original pace. All eyes on her, she takes it all in stride. As she approaches a table, she deftly removes the shot from a particularly shady looking patron's frozen hand, his gaze never leaving her, seemingly unaware he was suddenly missing his drink. Without effort she quickly downs the rust colored liquid and passing the second table in the row, turns the glass upside down and slams it down with a force unexpected from such a petite figure. "Thanks kid, next time, try a real man's drink... " she said as they all stared at her back - her black, rain-soaked trench, her smartly brimmed fedora that always sat on the back of her head, and her motorcycle goggles. Always with those motorcycle goggles. In her left hand, was that cane, yet no one ever saw her walk with a limp. Mysteriously black and silver – but not shiny, seeming instead, to absorb any line that shone on it. She wasn't the showy type who did things for attention and no reason other... but if there were any people around who knew the deal with that cane, they weren't talking...

Hulk.... Smash!

I'm coming off a caloric deficit weekend. That has fueled me to make a decision about my gym life. For a period, I had decided that I was going to muscle up. Pile some bulk on. Get swole... Let me just say, that shit is hard. This is coming from someone who - might I add 10 years ago, lost 60 pounds and have kept it off this whole time. The hard part about this whole thing isn't the weights bit, not the training, not the cardio, not the pain and sweat and exhaustion, the hardest part is eating. I have had an epiphany because of all this - I'm a little dude. I have a small frame and that's just the way it's going to be. I have decent enough genes that I could pack on some muscle, but damn, I increased my caloric intake to around 1900-2100 calories a day, which i thought was a LOT, apparently it wasn't. I got a noticeably larger, noticeably stronger, was able to lift more - in fact, I slid comfortably in to the "225 club" where I was working out with on a regular basis, 225 on the flat bench - 4 45 plates and the bar. I even maxed out, my personal record, 250, I could possibly have completed a 1 rep max of 275. The 250 was my 6th set of 8+reps, and all over 225 pounds, so I'm sure I was a bit gassed by that point. BUT, I can't keep up that kind of eating. So again, going back to the thing I said about identifying with things and allowing those things to help define you as a person, I'm taking myself out of the 225 club.... I'm just not meant to be moving heavy weights like that.... because I can't keep eating that much food, and I need like 320+ grams - that's like ... well one of my protein shakes is 84 grams. And everyone knows the best protein is from actual food... so. Point is, I'm 42. I'll be 43 this year. Unfortunately, I got in to this game too late in life. I'm rapidly (I assume) running out of hormones to build muscle. I should be more concerned now with sculpting the muscle I have and trying to keep it, and keeping the fat off. My mom's only living brother had a stroke the other day. It runs in the family... so far I've had two uncles who had strokes and heart attacks, an uncle to die of cancer, grandmother to die of cancer, grand father to die of cancer, I have two aunts who had alzheimers and .... point is, my future is going to be a damn disease land mind. I will say this though, I will not go through life slowly losing my mind. I will go out in a glorious ball of flame before that happens. :) 

It's been a while... long enough for everything to change

Like a year since my last post, or something. Part of that has been because I have raged against google+. Call me an asshole but I don't think just because I have a google email account, that gives them the right to post any of my pics or information on any of their satellite companies' pages. e.g. my pictures on picasa.... fuck google. part of it has been because my life itself has changed. Not because of anything enacted, but sometimes things happen over which we have no control. This is one of those things. I'm not going to talk about it here because it's mine to deal with. Mainly I am posting this to test out the new interface and attempt to control as much of it as I can...

Recently, I have been using all the self control I can muster to keep from raging on people. Normally I don't have a lot of patience for stupidity, ignorance, sense of entitlement or the general malaise that comes with most of humanity, but recently .... it's been much worse. To the point where I pretty much have to shut down mentally until I can get to the gym, work through my anger and most times, after that, I feel great. But that's because I leave it all in the gym. If I had never started working out, I would probably be in prison for murder by now. Which brings me to another point - I was watching a YT video the other day on steroids. It was an email video, a viewer was writing in to get the opinion of this person. The general consensus was that steroids are ok as long as you don't imprint with them - in other words, he went on to say, don't let the steroids define you as a person, don't identify yourself with the size and body you get from using them because at some point, you will have to stop using them and you will lose the gains you made while on them. Once that happens, you will be sent in to an emotional tailspin, trying to figure out who you are because the person you see when you look in the mirror is not the person you expect to see....  ad infinitum. Well that's great and all, and I happen to agree, you shouldn't let an alien substance, whether it's steroids or botox or a new car or hair dye dictate or guide who you are as a person. But you can also apply this to literally anything - going to the gym in general, weight training, dieting, losing weight, having a tan, religion - nothing is permanent and at some point the thing you use to define yourself could and may possibly come to an abrupt end. Then what? So, how do we define who we are? If we don't use something we come in contact with every day, how are we to develop a personality? How do we know who we are? The alternative is to follow in the footsteps of Bodhidharma and live in a cave with no alien influences.... I don't know. While I have no intentions of doing steroids, I can't help but expand the point of view of this video to include all aspects of life....

Rage

It's morning breakfast rush, nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary. He walks down from his cube over to the canteen, like he does every morning, ready for the minor, insignificant, yet infuriating slight that invariably occurs due to the hateful combination of obliviousness and entitlement of people in general. The goal: to get a bagel and toast it and get out without any kind of interaction that would make him want to kill someone else. The result? Fail. He acquires his bagel. He moves to the toaster. Both are occupied. So he waits. Patiently, until one is free. As he starts to move forward, someone steps in front of him, steals his place. Inside him a nuclear bomb goes off. The person apparently had a moment of clarity, actualization, sentience and inquires, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I jump in front of you"? To which He replies "Yes, you did. It's fine." Attempting to keep up the ruse of tolerance. His expression is stoic. Inside he is a boiling cauldron of hate and destruction. He is not meant for human interaction. He has no time or desire to suffer these fools. In his head, he imagines a different world...

"Yeah, you moved in front of me. Fortunately for you, I'm in a decent mood today. See, none of you motherfuckers mean enough to me to worry about. The ONLY reason I don't murder each and every single one of you is because I don't want to have to spend the rest of my days in prison because I extinguished your worthless, miserable existence. THAT is how much I value your life. So yeah, the fact that you moved in front of me is infinitely insignificant. I've already caved in your skull in my head five different times with five different weapons, all of which are currently within my reach."

This is how he keeps his sanity.

Fog

Total strangers. Fuck them. Who are they? Nobody knows. And nobody cares. And that's how it should be, I guess. But what about people who aren't strangers? What about friends, acquaintances, people you know? You don't expect a total stranger to ask you if you need to talk... or to genuinely ask how you are doing. You wouldn't expect a total stranger to sit there patiently while you wax passionately about all the trouble in your life, about all the stupid shit that bothers you, about how you feel and why you just need someone to talk to. No, of course not. That'd be silly. Friends, however... fuck I don't know. I thought the way it worked, friends were supposed to be people you could talk to. People who would take time and stop what they were doing to make time for you, if you needed it. And not get annoyed if you accidentally start talking at the same time they do. Friends, I thought, were supposed to be there for each other. Be empathetic. Care, worry, be concerned for each other. If some stranger dies do I really give a shit? No. I don't know that person and me caring isn't going to change anything one way or another, so I'd rather not waste the energy. Some chick murdered her boyfriend? I don't care. Some women escaped after being kidnapped for years, or something like that? Really just don't give a shit. I don't know any of them and could literally not care less. Now. As apathy-laden as I am for strangers, I am at least as empathetic toward my friends. If I'm in the middle of something I really enjoy and a friend calls I will stop what I'm doing and give them my full, undivided attention, and not even get annoyed. Because they need me at that moment. I will listen on the phone, attentively, for hours if need be, to their problems, how they feel about things, their stressful times, just because they need someone at that moment to vent to. I will support them in any venture they choose. Do you know what I have come to realize? The opposite is not always... actually, the opposite is rarely true. I honestly don't remember the last time anyone was there for me. How the fuck is that fair? If I'm listening to you complain and vent to me for an hour and a half on the phone, do I not get to say anything? Apparently that's the way of things because if I happen to comment, and you continue the sentence you were just saying, and I ACCIDENTALLY interrupt you, I get this irritated sigh, as if your tolerance for me is nearly at it's end. Oh. I'm sorry. Excuse the fuck out of me. I thought I was a human being. "I don't really have time right now" - that's the fucking response I get when I need someone to talk to. I guess it doesn't fucking matter. It's not a two way street. I am here for the benefit of other fucking people and nothing more. Fine. I can do that shit. You want me to not bother you? You've obviously never seen how determined a scorpio can be when he sets his mind to something. Years from now when you wonder just what the fuck happened, maybe you should take a moment and examine your life. Your actions, your decisions. Maybe once in a fucking while, take time to be there for someone who might need you. Open your fucking eyes and see when someone else needs help. You talk about being invisible? You say that you feel as though people ignore you and just don't see you there? And only really acknowledge you when they need something? Yeah, I can relate to that. Except much closer to home. This is why I hate people. Fucking selfish, egocentric, short sided opportunists. And apparently that applies to everyone a little. But hey, now that I know that, I can move through life more prepared. No more lasting connections for me. No more deep bonds. No more soulful experiences. Fuck all that noise. Apparently that was all in my imagination. It apparently wasn't mutual. This just means I can let the inner asshole motherfucker that I usually try to keep suppressed, out all the time now. SO FUCK YOU ALL.

As it turns out...

I heard someone opining the other day about how guys always say "girls/women always go after the guy who will treat them like shit" or girls will say "guys always go after the easy girl ... " ad infinitum, and their point was that while that may be the case once in a while, the fact is that most of the time the guy or girl in this scenario has just tried to pick up or be picked up by someone who was way out of his or her league. I think I may have to agree with this. I have a lot of respect for this person and value their opinion. And when I apply this formula to my own past experiences, it holds true. Unfortunately, that sobers things up a bit, levels the playing field and exposes a rather harsh truth: the fact that if you are one of the people who feel this way (as was I), you haven't met the right person yet, and there exists the very real possibility that you will not. Therefore, you have to prepare yourself for one of three eventualities: Either change your entire perspective on life, get used to being alone, or be ok with settling for less than what you think you deserve or see yourself with, just to keep from being alone.

Unfortunately, for me, it exposes an even more harsh truth: I am not sure I can successfully be in a relationship. The very idea of spending time around people, hanging out with someone for several days in a row, not having any time to myself - it fills me with a sense of anxiety and stress. It gets hard to breathe, and the idea that in order to be in a relationship, I have to give up this time, really does not appeal to me. Which is weird. There are so many times when I lament about being alone. But if I really hated being alone so much, would the prospect of spending time with other human beings, several nights in a row, really upset me so much? After working all day, busting my ass in the gym, putting up with all the retards who sit around me, dealing with irate users and machines that live to cause me stress, all I want when I get home is quiet. I want to be able to be silent, not have to talk to anyone, or acknowledge anyone, not have to listen, or entertain or be responsible for anything other than whatever I plan to do in the next moment. And that brings up something else - I don't think I like being responsible for someone else's happiness. it just seems like a really bad idea, given how moody I am at times. There are times I don't even like myself. I don't know. It's a work in progress and I'm trying really hard to suppress all this negative shit. It's manifesting in strange ways though - bad decisions on my part, failures, (which shall never be discussed on this medium) mis-communications, boring routines, etc. Naturally I see this as just more proof that I should not willingly mingle with human beings. I'm just not like them. Nothing good can come of it.