Denominator.

I guess I just have it in my blood to trust the wrong people throughout my time on Earth amongst other human beings –or whatever you’d call those carbon-based, sets of bones with a thin layer of skin stretched tightly (or loosely) around each one, with seemingly emptied out, bobbling heads attached – I sure as Hell hate to call those things “people”.
I have mastered the unrewarding, often self-masochistic, pseudo-“art” of choosing the most shallow and self-absorbed individuals on whom to place importance and on whom to martyr my dwindling ability to trust. At some point in my life, I got to where I can no longer blame the vernacular beasts that I choose to surround myself with for such miserable incompatibility; sooner or later, I had to swallow the realities that I find consistently staring back at me through the eyes of my own reflection.
I eventually began to accept the fact that if I am incompatible with so “very, very many” of my own species, the likelihood of that incompatibility being born of the “shortcomings” of that group of “very many people” is low, if even in existence. I have truly realized and began to accept that I am the faulty common denominator in the countless equations of social arithmetic that I pathetically fail to wrap my thick head around – the continual negative sum in the mathematics of human behaviors and relationships – worthy or otherwise, I am the common denominator. PERIOD.

1421876244430-1Naturally, the majority of “relationships” that I can stake any claim to throughout my scarce and, undoubtedly warped experiences within the realm of human intimacy have each been notably unhealthy in at least one major aspect. I do not know what it looks or feels like to be in a healthy relationship with anyone in a romantic context. In spite of the insatiable hunger and longstanding desire I remember always harboring to have this elusive, healthy thing. At the end of the day when all’s said and done – I wouldn’t recognize a healthy relationship if it came up and bit me in the face…how could I recognize something I’ve never seen before? I have only misidentified the chances that I might have had in the past at healthiness in a committed relationship with someone; I have only mistreated the good standings I’ve had with men who may have been exceptional if I had given them a fighting chance. I just can’t trust the words that people choose to waste on me anymore, at all – not women, not men – not anyone – ever, in any circumstance. My issues behind the inability to foster commitment run so deeply entrenched at this stage of “the game” that I have truly started to question whether or not any amount of therapy, strenuous physical exercise, or exhausting mental stimulation by the opposite sex could ever actually change my perceptions back to what I think that they once must have been.
I do not know if I find this revelation a good one or a horribly life-altering one, either. I have been behaving so ambiguously the past few years in general, in all honesty. It’s been very strange to feel so indifferently over everything – another HUGE shift from the person that I used always like to think I was; Life’s formerly Technicolor scenery has been replaced by a drabber, grey-scale version of it. The white noise of my existence resembles the constant, bellowing rolls of thunder that accompany the bolts of constant lightning that crack like live wires of energy gone awry: a chaotic soundtrack that perfectly mirrors my psyche and syncs naturally with my soul. During nighttime the soundtrack only shifts into the noise of a low-volume baseball game’s announcers and noise.
I have not lived a perfect life by any means; I don’t claim to have, and I am also much too self-aware to dare try. I know that I have let many people down along the way to where I stand now in life, and death. I know that my combative spirit is NOT the ONLY reason why I have survived as long as I have; I realize that I hold no special title to the world’s shallow, robotic inhabitants, nor would I like to if given the chance to hold one:
…a bunch of fuck-heads…
People disgust me with their’ all-consuming need to rise in rank – to “ever-aim-higher” – to continuously yearn for what ISN’T in a given existence…bigger, stronger, faster – better and worth more money…
Me: I don’t have this parasitic social handicap I suppose; because I could honestly care less about having bullshit possessions that I can carry around and flaunt – to show off to my heartless “friends”. I do not count the monetary value of my possessions against my own cha-cha in the Universe; I don’t ever let my head fill entirely up with the environmentally poisonous, bullshit hot air.

MMMM MMMMM MMMMM.

MMMM MMMMM MMMMM.

I’d trade anything I own in a nano-second in exchange for some sort of true comfort that Boo could eternally call hers – that nobody and nothing could ever steal from her. The rest of the world and the bullshit happening in it just seem so insignificant and muted to me – while my daughter spirals downward into what should have been her future. Her eighteenth birthday quickly approaches now – in May…and I carry so much fear and dread as well as excitement and relief over her coming of age and being set free. I’ve only recently opened my fucking eyes and seen the striking similarities between Boo and I in regard to commitment issues, somehow…not sure what the fuck I have been paying attention to, but it’s like a metric fuck-ton of bricks from the top of the Empire Reality Building have crumbled and landed on my head, in terms of Boo’s shiftiness.
Basically, somehow I have managed to totally overlook the FACT that despite my painstaking efforts when she was a baby and her father and I were together still – to protect her from seeing things that he’d done to me, in a wide and creative array of ways, trust me – she still KNEW. She always knew. Even before she knew that she knew, or what it was that she knew – she knew. I’ve always known this deep down in my heart, for obvious reasons…but as with my former drug addiction during the same era of her life, there’s nothing I can do un-do any of it, so other than to simply try and persevere onward and upward from those past mistakes of mine – there’s little I’ve ever been able to process surrounding any of it. Of course, she and I have always had issues over her father’s sudden and permanent absence from her toddler-hood; she remembers him being there always and then one day just not ever being there again. In her perceptions however, she does not recollect the FACT that I also disappeared from her life at the same exact time as he did – only temporarily. All these years later as a full grown woman, I see the unacknowledged trauma that must have created for Boo, in itself. She doesn’t deal with it properly because she has somehow warped her perceptions into something other than what they actually were. She would tell you that her father “just up and left me and my mom one day…”, which anyone who knows anything about our story knows wasn’t even close to how shit went down. She hardly ever even talks about my absence/injury/hospitalization period at all – never has.
These thoughts of mine have me wondering things about why it seems to be so much more difficult to really get through to her about ANYTHING. I’m realizing that her entire perception of all things shared between our life experiences, together or separately, is contrasting to my own.

math_friends…which brings me back to my original point with this:

Who then, in these instances between Boo and me, is the common denominator?

13 thoughts on “Denominator.

  1. “I just can’t trust the words that people choose to waste on me anymore, at all – not women, not men – not anyone – ever, in any circumstance. ”

    —— Trust is a funny thing. You do give it too freely – but that (in my opinion) demonstrates hope that the people you trust – will treat you in a way that allows you hope in yourself. And weather the the people you trust are dicks or it is you that sabotages it… there will always remain TRUTH. And that truth, my beautiful woman, is that you are, and always will be a kaleidoscopic flower that is a gift to behold, and touch, but that will always be wild, and unowned. You can be loved, but not owned. You are the captain of your soul.

    As for Boo… hug. She is a part of you. To use the word ‘waste’ in any context is to deny that you are a human, a mother, and ultimately someone who is BOUND to be misunderstood. I refuse to agree with some of what was said – because words given to you that are kind and respectful are never a waste. You are deserving. You say any different we will have words!

    I love you. Hear me? Wild Flower? Tell me my words are wasted…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. HUGS, Sister.
    Thank you more than you know.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. charlypriest says:

    Actually we do have quite a lot of things in common. And I do know and have been with girls that are self destructive which means they end up screwing me up, yet at the same time I too had quite a big drug addiction problem so no wonder I ended up in those type´s of environment so really it was me the self destructive one who managed to end up with self destructive people.

    Healthy relationships…. I can point only to one and it was me who screwed it up.

    But, having said this shit. It´s all in the mind and what I call “mind shift” since what you habitually think or do in your life will eventually determine who you will become. So if you keep positive, do positive things first for yourself and who knows, you might end up with the love of your life.

    I have given up on that, but for you, I bet on you and I think my odds of winning are quite good ones. So then you´ll have to repay me monetarily….not really. I couldn´t give a damn about money. Ofcourse I value money, having been homeless myself I hate when people say everything is not about money, well in part they are right not everything, but money certainly makes life easier. If not I wouldn´t have a computer nor I would start those writing courses on line. Or pay for the medicines for my fucked up ankle. But richess, is not what I think about. Living a comfortable life…meaning a roof over my head, my computer, t.v, having food to eat every day and something saved for emergencies or just take a vacation someplace.

    They key here I believe is what I said in the 3rd paragraph. Just a thought from a crazy-rational mind.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I thank you for your thoughts, C, you are a wise Crazy Life, and one with a great big heart even though you don’t always like to show it. Thank you for betting on me, you have no clue how much that means coming from you. Stay frosty, Gent. ALWAYS. XX

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I often feel the same way. But look at religion. So many different religions, and each group of followers is absolutely convinced that they have the right one. Like mass delusion, endlessly perpetuated. If such a belief can grip an entire community, country, portion of the globe, in direct contrast to a neighboring group of another belief, then why does it have to be you? Could you not be the sane person in the midst of the mass delusion?
    I think thoughtfullyprepping is right.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. JMC813 says:

    A Lion stands against a concrete jungle background with a single tear escaping his proud eyes. He will try to change general perceptions to a single reality. That when most people truly are worthless there can still be the few and far between that are REAL. Genuine people who care and would have your back in the name of friendship through the hardest of times. I think I may know one already as a matter of fact.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. You know I think you’ve got it all wrong.
    It’s not you that got it wrong it’s just the rest of the world THAT IS FK’D UP.
    In my life I’ve had loads of bad relationships until I found my Mrs. who also had a shite life. Look at us as two misfits who fit nicely together!
    Know what was attractive to both of us?
    WE BOTH HAD NOTHING EXCEPT OURSELVES.
    No money, our lives fitted in the trunks of our cars, and ‘her’ had something I didn’t have, a dog!

    We still think the rest of the world is shite.
    We still trust no one else. Especially family.
    Still it’s kinda fun that way, us against the world.
    Are we winning? Am I smiling? Yep, we’re winning!

    Liked by 5 people

    • Prepper:
      I most certainly hope Pen sees this…wow, what a statement! And, you know…? Sometimes, you really surprise me with your poetic hidden side…how fucking encouraging and endearing can a guy get, Geez! Thank you so very much for your two cents – I always enjoy and appreciate catching it. HUGS to you and the LUCKY Mrs. and that lil rascal girl dog of yours!

      Liked by 2 people

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