After festering on my own discontent for well, years. I remembered that I have a perfectly legitimate platform for venting said discontent. Does anyone read it? No. Does it save me a veritable fortune on therapy? Yes. Is it suitable for public consumption? After deleting about 14 particularly damning posts... Most definitely!
It's funny really, looking back on my first post from 2 years ago. I was lost in my own headspace and obviously looking for signs of life. Two years on, I am no further forward in my quest for something a touch more substantial. If anything, time have done nothing more than prove to me that living in my head may well be the best course of action. As I've said before, I am the ultimate anti social socialiser. My friends are precious to me, a fact that they probably don't know as I never tell them... or respond to texts, emails or phonecalls. I would do anything for my true friends, I would move mountains, crack skulls, even leave the house. I haven't seen them for days, months, years even but I hope that they know that if ever they needed me I would be there. They know me better than I know myself, and it is through their eyes that I see the true reflection of myself. That maybe I'm not as solitary as I thought, that maybe I do have potential, that despite everything the voice in my head tells me, I am not the giant fuck up I'd previously typecast myself to be. I love these people, I trust these people. They have helped me grow and change and become the person I am today. What I love about my real friends is that they don't have a mute button. If I'm about to do something stupid, they tell me. If the path I'm on ends in a sheer drop, they pull me back. If my outfit does indeed make my arse look like it has it's own planetary system , they give me the look that makes me change. You know where you are with them, they care enough to hurt my feelings for my own good. This I understand, and despite pouting like a diva, I do take it all on board.
My problem is people hurting my feelings for their own enjoyment. To appease their own withering sense of self worth. What the f*@k!? Forgive me, but I thought I'd left all that behind years ago.Even at school, things were easier to assimilate. If someone liked you they were your friend. If they hated you you'd know about it. My ability to gauge someone's feelings towards me have obviously dulled over time because I'm slowly beginning to see that the burgeoning flowers of friendship I thought were being cultivated are nothing more than antipathy. Which bothers me not, I dislike myself more frequently than anyone else ever could so the prospect of someone not being my biggest fan is hardly going to chink my ego. But I am stuck with myself and so I have to deal with it. For others, there is indeed a choice. If you aren't struck, walk away. My world will not shrink because you aren't in it so don't put yourself out on my account. So why am I sitting here at 34 years of age questioning whether my friends are really my friends? Why is it bothering me that X told me that Y said such and such to Z about me? Why am I getting so frustrated that Z spoke to Y and not to me? Why can't we just say what we mean... For the love of all that is holy, words are our greatest gift. Sticks and stones and all that. I can't see why anyone over the age of 7 would get any satisfaction from pretending to give a damn about someone they dislike. What is the point?! The title pretty much says it all, say what you think or shut the hell up. But say it to the relevant people, don't throw out little poison pellets to passers by because it always get back and people get mad, or sad or both. Words can't truly hurt people and while the truth may sting, it's a damn sight better than feeling like a dope further down the line. What's your problem, you don't want to hurt my feelings? Too damn late sunshine.
Bottom line, I really don't understand people.
That is all.