Someone you haven’t even met yet is wondering what it’d be like to know someone like you.

If you found anything of value here or in others, it’s only because you’d seen it before inside yourself.

You know I just wouldn’t be human if I didn’t try and hold your hand as it disintegrated from the light of a thousand suns somewhere above Hiroshima. Or kiss the tears from your cheeks in Iraq, like the sweat from your brow in Zimbabwe. It isn’t in me not to try and lift the rubble crushing you in Gaza or hide you in Rwanda. Like a last hug in a building in New York or the water we shared in Afghanistan. More than the blood we mixed in Flanders or the sandy beach we trod in Normandy. Longer than the fires burned in Dresden or Soweto. I won’t let go of your hand.

Clever, clever

give me a reason to be placing all of my trust in your hands.

I wish I could I could have quit you.

I wish I never missed you,

And told you that I loved you, every time I fucked you.

I get this distinct impression that I have friends that are only existent because I can make them look good, or because I can tell a story, or because I can make them look like they aren’t shallow as fuck, even though they are.

I get this distinct impression that I am fading quickly, or not so quickly, depending on who you are and where I’ve planted my seeds. I get this distinct impression that I am fucking sick of associating myself from fake people.From people that live a life and then tell me they hate it. From people that pretend to be in love when they aren’t. Or pretending to love me when they don’t, or more accurately, never did.

I’m tired of associating myself among the vapid and insincere, and I am tired of people accepting these people as that, because that’s all they know how to be. I get this distinct impression that I am being pulled down by the weight of people’s nothingness and I am fucking sick of that.

So I am going to start where I should have months ago. I am going to stop making new friends, not because it makes me sad anymore, but because I am fucking embarrassed. I realized a few minutes ago that I hate some people more than I love them, and that’s what gets under my skin. It isn’t because I know I hate them, it’s because how much it plagues me that part of me still doesn’t.

Some people don’t deserve second chances, or third chances, or fourth chances. Some people deserve nothing but a life of falsehood and misery. And I sincerely hope they get it. And it’s not because I’m bitter, even though I most certainly am. It’s not because I am angry, even though I most certainly am. It’s because I am sick of you. I am so sick of you, and I want to puke at the sight of your stupidity and the essence of your entire fucking existence.

Fuck you.

This is step one. I get the distinct impression that some people never deserved me, and not the other way around. By the way, I also found out that some things just end.

“ I’m selfish enough to want to get better, but I’m backwards enough not to take any steps to get there.”

“ What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.”

Chuck Palahniuk

Shit Talking

There are those who actually have something to say.

These are the ones who overstep the boundary of civil debate and choose to use personal attacks as a means to get their point across. I would say that almost everyone does this from time to time, myself included. It’s not so much a conscious decision, as it is an unintentional happening. It almost always has acceptable intent behind it: to get a point across, often one that is of moral significance to the person making the argument.

There are those trying to avoid a spotlight.

These are the cowardly ones and the insecure ones. They may or may not have the intent to bring another down. Most times, it is their own selfishness that brings them to spew negativity. Quite simply, they are afraid that others will realize their flaws and point out their shortcomings. So they throw the first blows. They put the attention on someone else in an attempt to avoid it for themselves. Sure, they may feel bad about it. But in their minds, it would feel so much worse to have their own imperfections exploited.

There are those who want an escape out of their own minds.

These ones are very similar to the former. The insecurity is there. But these ones also have self-loathing added into the mix. These are the ones with low self-esteem and no way out of their minds. To make themselves feel better in their own skin, they constantly compare themselves to other people. Moreover, they voice these comparisons to anyone who will listen. They want everyone to know that they are not as low and worthless as they may feel. They want to truly believe it for themselves as well. These ones constantly seek approval, and they go about getting it by trying to make themselves feel “above” others.

There are those who simply like to hurt other people.

As cruel as it may sound, they just enjoy causing others pain. It’s their entertainment. Maybe they are bored. Maybe nothing else interests them, besides picking apart other people. Oftentimes, they are just apathetic. They couldn’t care less. Alfred said it best in The Dark Knight: “Some men just want to watch the world burn.” Almost everyone who talks shit will claim that they fit this category, but I seriously doubt that very many actually do.

I’m home now and right now, I need to go for a walk to clear my head. I hope I return as someone else. Because right now, I don’t really like who I am or how I am feeling, and you probably wouldn’t like me either.