Shame on Me and the Cursed Empathy.

I guess at this stage of the situation in which I blindly bound myself about a year and a half ago now, the question that burns the biggest hole in my soul would be this:

Why in the Hell would anyone INTENTIONALLY remain to annoy and disrespect; in a living situation that has become obviously regrettable and problematic with the very same person who originally allowed that person in to a home to begin with?

I mean, for me in my own personal experiences with things like this, I tend to lean towards the old saying that goes,

“Nobody likes to be somewhere when they are not wanted.”

Apparently, not everyone is made uncomfortable by being an imposition and a nuisance to the life of someone who’s only mistake had been trying to help that person in the past; someone who has been more than patient during the long period of time that a former welcoming gesture has been overstayed and taken wildly advantage of; someone who just wants her own life and routine back, finally. Apparently, some people have no issue whatsoever with becoming a thoroughly hated and resented element from one day to the next, simply based on the fact that they are here – and unwanted. For a long while, I had certainty of this person’s oblivion, in regard to my displeasure with his continued residence, but after finally blowing up and releasing the seething wrath he has sown within my being over time, there is no longer any excuse for his refusal to just leave already. Since my overdue explosion, I know with certainty that he is aware of my readiness for him to move out and move on in his own life – anywhere besides my house. I know that he is aware of how I feel about and perceive him also – because I told him those things too during my blow-up. I have become paranoid of him because he is not trustworthy, and has proven such time and again – which makes me question everything about him and anything he says or does. That is no way to live in the same space with someone else; and I am getting to the point where I might have to talk to Dice (my other roommate and the homeowner where I live) about it, whether I like it or don’t. I have been avoiding involving him for obvious reasons; but he is the one who can make it happen without any drama…kinda paradoxal, isn’t it all? Fuck me and the cursed empathy…it gets me every fucking time in the end to be a “human being” to another carbon-based life form.

For YOU.

abandon your instincts

 

Why would I want to begrudge or deny – a pair of mended wings?

The only thing I might do, would be to ask you to –

Use them to get you as far as you can from me.

I am not mad about the successes you’ve had – or the future you look ahead for.

The problem you see, is that your healing doesn’t heal me –

On the contrary, I’m somehow emptier than I was before.

 

But these things don’t necessarily mean – that my intentions for you have changed;

I still wish you no less, than the bluest skies and lasting breath –

You’ve confided your struggles and most secret fears and spiritual pain.

Just because the stars don’t glow just for “US” – Life will still go on.

Separate paths will slowly pass – and forgotten belly laughs –

I want you to keep flying further and further, now that you’ve really gone.

 

Fiend

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If you remove the letter ‘R’ from the word ‘FRIEND’, your are left with nothing more than a fiend; when you take the trust and endearment out of a circumstance, you often find yourself sitting with a very ugly reality, firmly attached in your wide-open lap.

When you allow your misguided, faulty sense of trust to lead your decisions regarding such an atrocity as ‘fiends posing as friends’, you are inviting a most sobering wake-up from the lobby in the depths of Living Hell; for choices falling this category have the potential to sway the very course of a lifetime.

When you are stupid enough (in a truly pitiful sense) to allow the vultures (your band of two-faced fiends) to circle overhead and give away your position for all to see – without ever even realizing what was happening, you have tattooed a barcode that translates into “ENSLAVED”.

 

Do Not Mistake My Weakness for Kindness

This week has been sullen for me, as an individual human being on a solo journey through this thing called ‘life’…I’ve been stabbed once more in my back – the back that resembles Swiss Cheese these days from so many of these trivial betrayals.

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“Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.”

Or so, I like to proclaim quite regularly; but in all actuality it’s much more the opposite. I am a weak individual in terms of emotional control: I am cursed with the permanent role of Devil’s Advocate, as well as the additional layers of extreme and seemingly untreatable abandonment issues that have morphed into rejection issues over time. When I say “rejection issues”, I don’t simply apply that to the context of romantic relationships, either…no, unfortunately my insecurities, leeriness, and inability to commit have crossed all boundaries throughout the realms of my world by now – rendering the recluse, socially anxious and withdrawn “thing” that writes this blog. I know that I am the common denominator in all of the failed attempts at intimacy in the years since I learned the truth about the Real World and how quickly someone can literally become someone else altogether. I have repeatedly been shown the lesson of trusting the wrong individual, but have yet to actually learn it, I suppose.

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My worst wounds are the ones people can’t see; the most painful experience of my own survival are born from my psyche, from my perceptions of the world around me as well as the people in it. In reality, this past week has been very minimal in interaction or dialogue or exchange with the backstabber in question; that’s my issue – that’s my symbolic open wound: the ways that others feel so obliged to “use” my weaknesses to their own benefit somehow.

I operate fairly simply and without complexity:

  • If you’ve hurt me in any way, I will let it be known to you – at which point, you have the option to either do right or wrong by me.
  • After a window of a day or so passes by, if you have not chosen to show me the fundamental decency of communication in any sense of the word, you’ve been systematically chalked up with those before you who have acted like a mutant.

In life, I realize that we are each essentially on different journeys in this thing, motivated by varying factors and ambitions; only coinciding to unite forces when the purpose serves each person involved; I get it. I am not some numbskull from whom such concepts escape, trust me; I am however, apparently in some highly masochistic sort of denial to the blatant and repeatedly painful realization that 9 out 10 of the living, breathing, “functioning” carbon-based, human life forms around me at any given moment in time: are quite likely already chalked up to the formerly mentioned category of “mutant”.

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I use the word mutant to describe many types of creatures who live under the palpable existence of “humanity”:

  1. People who steal from other people.
  2. People who bully or terrorize others who are unable to defend themselves due to size or restraints.
  3. People who are dishonest with those who are not.
  4. People who think that they are the exception to “the rule”, any rule.
  5. People who are intrinsically satisfied by watching others suffer.
  6. People who are obnoxious in the need to flaunt and display celebratory behaviors at the cost of others in a form of mockery.
  7. ANYONE WHO HURTS A CHILD.
  8. People who believe that a certain social status or popularity amongst the tanning lights will protect them from the dark side.
  9. People who carry a badge or yield a gavel out of an unsatisfied need for control over others.
  10. People who knowingly look the other way when something WRONG is happening, because to say something would somehow affect their pocketbook negatively.

There are many more types of mutants too: pimps, johns, most government officials, bible thumpers, bullies, etc.

This week, I’ve been dealing with #s 3 and 8 on a pretty regular basis…and it’s been rough on me because I am an adult now, and I have to behave like one – but it’s NOT always easy is it? Sometimes, I would give anything just to be able to allow my fifteen year old Self to come out, just for a few moments and say, “Oh really? You think you’re backstabbing is anything new to me? Seriously, because I wanted to know if my back was hurting your fucking knife yet, you little Weaseling Snake…”, or, “Can it seriously be possible that you’re as fucking Princess Stupid as you’re acting, you stuck-up little spoiled rotten Dumptruck?”…

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…Jesus, I stomp around my house like a fucking Terra Cotta soldier, cursing and snarling under my breath whenever I’m in the same room with one of them – the 1st of May CAN NOT get here fast enough I’ll tell you that much…because I can hardly stand to look at my soon-to-be former roommate or either one of the little shit-kick dogs that are attached to his presence here in what was a once quiet and calm, easy-going and reciprocally supportive home front. I hate sharing space with such an opportunist; as I am NOT built that way by any means. I take yeah…but I am most certainly far from last to refrain from giving back.

I’m trying really hard to be mature and to just let it all roll off my back like water off a duck’s, but I guess I’m not as mature as I need to be, because things bother me when it comes to humanity. It really bothers me when people use me, when people not only use me, but then carry on as if that were always the plan, afterward. Why does some pompous, rich, pretentious fuck need to fuck with me and take from me when he already has more than enough for himself? Greed. Self-absorption. Lack of substance. All I know is that it’s hard to keep giving like the human being that I am by nature, when those with their hands out have mouths so full that they cannot speak to me.

Ok, that’s all for now…I will step down from the podium now…