I hope this is looooooooooong and that you’re disinterested now. Cus nigga, I’m just writing. [super drunk]
Where does my confidence come from? Is it an implicit understanding? Is it a sociopathic disregard? Why doesn’t it matter the “party situation” I walk into, I don’t feel anything but the compulsion to show you how you’re going to feel? I can’t say I’m a sociopath. I can say I’ve learned how to behave as a sociopath would to handle bidness. What all does that entail? Does it make my relationships any less honest? I don’t think so. As far as a self-assessment reaches in that regard.
I want “more.” I no longer genuinely understand insecurity, dishonesty, fear, or complacency. They just aren’t in my playbook. I love the ego ridden jock at the party; that’s the first mother fucker imma put in his place. Why? Why the fuck do I have the ability and compulsion? What about my personality is so hell bent on humbling people? Like, I’m only good at beer pong when I hate you. You are losing when I hate you. Something so trivial, but fuck me if I don’t show you how good I am at getting that fucker into a cup.
I don’t know where to go other than where I’ve been. I don’t perceive a secret or “specialness” to how or why we’re here. I have “nothing to look forward to” other than what I already see coming. Not to say I’m closed off to surprises, but god damn, they gotta be a surprise indeed. At some point, just putting so much time into being a certain kind of person is going to make you feel illegitimate. Like, the fact you haven’t “changed” or “grown” into something else, it’s an in laden doubt and vulnerability people wish to latch onto. They don’t know or care that ain’t nothing in question in your head.
In my efforts t be genuine I think it’s ripe with opportunity to be perceived as fake. People are not like me. I wish I could regard this as “special” but it’s really just kind of a pain in the ass. Niggas don’t talk in my tone, don’t mean what I say, don’t act on what they actually believe and feel. So something that doesn’t resemble what people are used to is default fake as shit. So I continue business as usual? I lament that vapid empty nature of the dishonest and afraid? Nah, Imma just keep playing like I play. Get on board or fuck off, not really giving a shit.
Like this party. FUCKING REEKED of what I hate about people thinking they getting “old.” Think they figured shit out. They know what’s up, they know how to drink, what they are or aren’t looking for in an interaction at a party. You little closed off secluded bitches! Your little band club is a suffocating pocket of existence that you fell into because you couldn’t let go of high school? I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking bout? Then why the fuck you so utterly closed to even converse or be marginally cordial to a nigga that ain’t on the field with you? That structure must feel nice. Don’t matter that they yelling orders at you, just the fact they telling you what to do is what’s up. Good for you ,you neurotic fuck.
The “I could count on one hand” mother fuckers that ain’t like that are the best. I wish they people could learn from their example. But no, as always, it don’t matter who you got, or what you know, or what you want to be, or anything of fucking substance and consequence, your bitch ass insecurities and know-it-all-ness is going to win. I fucking hate you. I legit would cut your fucking throats and save you the time living the rest of your sacrificial lives. Sheep ass niggas.
God, that makes me sound so bad. Am I just a fan of dramatic language? Have you managed to befriend a mother fucker that’s legit that fucked up and capable of pulling some nasty ass shit? (Hint: it’s option 2) I don’t know where else to go. Am I to ignore history? Am I to pretend I’ve learned nothing about the circumstances under which people behave certain ways? Should I forgo reason for “moral stomach feeling-ness…” fuck no. What, I’m a fucking retarded asshole now? I should start talking nonsense to “feel better” about myself which is just essentially trying to placate your feelings with language I can believe is going to make you feel better about me. What a game! What a pathetic empty game.
I feel like even people I’m not into, be it attractiveness or otherwise, I still try to give the benefit of the doubt. Imma judge, sure, but I’m going to stay how I treat you openly until I get a history and enough data to make sure that I ain’t sold you up the river cus I was feeling particularly dooshy that morning. It’s a form of humility. It’s a form of intellectual checks and balances. It’s so impossibly easy to judge, intrinsic doubt is the only acceptable ground floor position. Lazy bitch as disrespectful niggas just wallow in they feelings about shit. Naw, I gotta keep shit in check or why the fuck would you bother listening to what I’m saying?
Key fucking question! How the fuck is it that I ever have something to say? Why am I not fully me less I’m saying some shit I think is fucking relevant or spot on to “the conversation?” The massive overall reaching struggling grasp we have on what it means to be us and what the ever loving fuck we are doing with each other. Like, my charge in life is to literally NEVER SHUT THE FUCK UP! Is there not something peculiar about that? I will take a moment’s clarity and use that to justify a 5 page blog. I will take a refined sentence and extrapolate how that plays into the whole of existence. What the ever loving fuck?
At a weird and creepy and hard to define level, you all sort yourselves. It’s not me making top down judgments, no, you place yourselves into little categories that I may or may not be able to work with under varying conditions. I find myself unable to behave otherwise given your inputs. I find no position worth respecting but the one that responds to your behavior “as I do.” Somehow, I get to a deeper or more honest conception of myself when people have me expressing what feels intrinsically “true” about that nature. I’m the best me when you’re the best you. Blame it on the interconnectedness of all things, fuck if I know.
I hope we have a choice. Not just because I really want to blame you fuckers, but because I want something to believe in. If nothing else, just the option to behave otherwise. Then I’m right in a very important way. Then I actually get to claim dignity in my behavior. I’m standing for something. God forbid I’m just wallowing in a world complacently floating in an ambiguous fog of confusion. Fuck existence of you’re a circumstantial moron bound to the insecurity you picked up at 13 years old. It’s not that I hate everything, it’s that I hate everything fucking assholes endlessly choose to show me. I hate what they believe in. I hate what they reinforce. And as far as perception being reality is concerned, for all intents and purposes, that may as well be “everything. “
You won’t get me.
