I won’t stop writing until my
headache goes away.
I feel like I see everything. I keep myself positive, but the negative doesn’t disappear. I hate that I see the flaws in people most. If I can’t deal with people, it becomes infinitely harder to get the things I want. I hate that I can’t trust people. I hate that I allow myself to be played by this primal “need” or urge to feel connected and able to open up to people. Why do I feel that? I do I think I need to trust people like hatsam with things about my life. Why do I need to have conversations with these people and struggle to find things about them that I can empathize with? I guess I don’t. I really don’t. Maybe, at bottom I am just simply meant to feel, think, and be alone. At some level. Maybe the key to being as real as possible is to be the best faker possible. Say all the right things, make everyone smile, and “deny” all the truth and objectiveness out there. At least make it look like you’re denying it. What purpose does that serve though? Other than making you “fit in” with people who cause you stress and love to get lost in their lies. That isn’t the whole case though, right? It’s isn’t just a ball of stress and bullshit the whole time or you wouldn’t volunteer yourself to be in positions around them.
Are you just convincing yourself of this? Are you making yourself believe that the fun you have is genuine or is it a hard fought struggle to squeeze what you can out of people who pretend they don’t understand? You feel like you’re trying to convince yourself that you have fun. This seems to mean that you need to reassess and think harder about how and why you’re having fun in those scenarios. You have fun when you’re being funny, when people have real conversations with you, when you make money, when you accomplish something you set your mind to. While you don’t endorse the peoples’ behaviors that come to your parties, you know that you set it up, you’re the one making a little money, you’re the one who can potentially find someone or something of value that will aide you down the line. You’re happy making idiots laugh, knowing their idiots.
You have to keep hatsam at arms length. He doesn’t want to tell you some “big” shit that should come up in conversation, you don’t give him another inch. You chanced it because you’re human, not because you’re stupid. Human means you have a genuine ever present itch to connect with people. It means you will fight your rationality, destroy your body, dive head first into two feet of water to assimilate and play off of the group dynamic and vibe. It does not mean you are always comfortable. It does not mean you won’t be made a hypocrite. It does not mean you can convince yourself of any value to the situation beyond knowing that you’re just a stupid ape who wants to be around other stupid apes for shots in the dark at something more fun and more fulfilling.
God, I would love to just be working. I would love to accomplish and make deals. I want to create, play music, record, make movies, play sports, learn tricks. The level of commitment I have to these things would bring me more joy than just doing them in and of themselves. I could play my guitar for an hour after class every day. I know that to play at the level I want, I’d have to practice 8 to 10 hours a day and potentially have a teacher to show me a few tricks. I know I could create some cool pictures and advertising things, but it would take the hours of lessons in photoshop to really do it right. I want to know my time is going towards the higher dignity of the action, not just spent “doing what I enjoy” as a pathetic excuse for being bored or desperate to look like I’m accomplishing something.
You do laugh at and with these people. Fun is possible and is a good reason to be around someone.
You are alone. Deal with it. You know some real motherfuckers, but just like you, they can’t solve their shit anymore than you can. You guys can collectively bitch at the same level, but that doesn’t mean anything positive, outside of potentially alleviated headaches, can result. Is that a sick necessary consequence of our existence? That you can see the problems, know the people who can make it better, and always sit and watch because there are too many external factors to really get anything done? It seems like it, and it hurts to think it might be true, so let’s explore the other side and see if my head feels less shitty.
The other side: You get enough real people. They all take over a portion of what they are best at. They handle the people they can pick apart better than you. They teach? They force? They persuade? They enable? They do enable. They do the things that make a lot of people “happy” at once and sit in silence and understanding of what they’re doing and how it all works. So this seems to mean the problem lies with the real people. They either perpetuate the general level of bullshit, or they go down in a solo ball of flames in vehement opposition. The other side only able to see the “hypocrisy” and strident anger associated with it.
I have such a fucking headache. Walking around a new city. Done it. Eating at a place that served, at least to me, a mediocre meal and paying 15 dollars for it. Everyone is money grubbing. A better way to say that, everyone wants something they think will provide control and power. Whether you want something that gives you those things in a hippie commune or play by the real world’s rules, those are the things you want. They make you feel unimaginably good. They allow you to provide for those you care about. They allow you to fix problems quickly. But why are those problems there in the first place? The “wrong” people are merely after the same things you are, so it would appear that we are all after the wrong things. What are we after really? What “should” we be after?
I’ll throw out that what we should be after is balance. But a balance of what? Between what? Good and bad? Ideals and fakeness? Headaches and laughter? Is it a balance that we can even control? Is there some underlying law of the universe that is going to make things good or bad for you despite what you think you’ve done to improve your karma.
What if you truly are just destined to be fucked? What if you will just have to deal with everyone and everything from a point of hatred and frustration and there is nothing you can do about it? Every broken relationship, every failed business, every lost dollar, every lonely thought and suicidal night. What if that is what you are? Then you can’t just feel good about it. Then maybe you can’t just think yourself into happiness. Well, have I advocated merely thinking into happiness? It’s more of a process, practice. Thinking is definitely not making me happy right now. It’s causing me a stress headache. And how do I know it’s a stress headache? Because when I think about something I write, and it comes out brilliantly, or I explore some idea, it starts to fade out. This is why I won’t stop until the headache is gone. Somewhere in this everything currently beating the shit out of me will exist, and it won’t have to be crammed in one place.
Money. I am “worried” about money. I have to make enough to keep my roommates and live for one more year. It isn’t the biggest problem in the world, but there are a slew of pretty terrible necessary consequences of not maintain the kind equilibrium I’ve stumbled into currently. I really don’t want to have to deal with a roommate I can’t trust to not take my shit, go into my room, or not start fights over the dumbest shit.
What really bothers me is to think that there aren’t that many stupid people. I don’t know how I would deal with the reality where everyone is just as smart as me and can still manage to carry themselves in the way they do. I don’t know how to survive people like me, thinking about me and how I think, and still being able to get stoned every day. I don’t know how I could convince myself that I don’t care about my life in a year. I don’t know how I could not remind myself that something was a bad decision or that a friend was completely unreliable. I don’t know how I could manage to see literally hundreds of opportunities and convince myself that I need to stay in school. I don’t know how I could judge somebody so horrendously incorrectly that I might as well be lobotomized because there just aren’t any thoughts I am worthy to have. I don’t know how I could pretend not to hear. I don’t know how I could pretend not to see. I don’t know how I could be comfortable with being insanely lazy about something that involves people I should be relatively beholden to. I don’t know how I could spend all day every day playing a game of any nature. I don’t know how I could convince myself that the people I’m playing with are my friends. I don’t know how alcohol by itself is a good time. I don’t understand how making 90 percent of my conversations a reference to some youtube video is fun. I don’t understand wanting to listen to something in Japanese and reading the show I’m supposed to be watching. I don’t understand making a comment in a very snippy pointed manner like “Well then you shouldn’t have said easy!” and not realize it was pointed and snippy; then, if it were to ever be throw back at you, or a snippy pointed thing gets said about something else to you, you’d have a million and a half things to say about it to anyone with a set of ears.
I reveal way too much. My only saving grace is that I can always find a new set of people and work the game correctly again. I allowed my humanity to take me over. I allowed myself to fall into the same kind of ruts of the people I most despise. I can understand you fucking fuck of fucking assholes. I get it, I really fucking sickeningly do. Do I excuse myself? Do I shrug it off? Do I punish myself? Is it even possible to avoid? Is it even something I should treat as a major problem? Is there something wrong with me for even viewing “the human condition” of which I’ve subjected myself to, or been subjected, as this crazy inferior damaging ridiculousness to labor scorn upon? I’m sick of saying yes and no.
I can’t dignify denial. Denial I’m defining as a very direct and pointed understanding of something and behaving in a completely contradictory way. It’s literally running mentally and physically away from something that can, at the very least, be talked about if nothing else. You deny what you’re capable of. You deny how you feel. You deny who you’re real friends are. You deny what makes you happy. You deny that you know how to fix it. Is this why you never really care to understand or exist happily? Why you don’t fix problems. Because you deny they even exist? You truly don’t think they matter? You truly feel helpless. You truly feel alone, at all times, with little to no recourse but to do any and everything in your power to reinforce that wall of denial? That seems to make sense. I get headaches because I genuinely believe I can fix something. Because I am always convinced that I will bump into someone, something, some scenario that won’t make we want to bust out and break down out of anything more than excitement. If I am able to deny that it’s possible. If I am able to convince myself that this is my rut, that these are my people, that nothing, absolutely nothing I do, whether it makes me happy or sad for a fleeting moment, will ever change that, a sense of overall contentedness follows. Religion…this is why hell never actually bothers people because they’re already in the rut that they are saved or at least repentant.
The next question seems to be how to deal with a world of deniers. You can’t deny yourself or, well you’d probably just off yourself as that would be the only thing that made sense. The real problem is that you can’t really be sure that what you’re saying and doing are following from how you meant them to come across. When you give an order, and the order goes through, you can’t trust that it happened because you said the order. Some other “denial world” reason had to permeate that made people behave. They didn’t do it because they respect you, understand you, or even remotely care, they did it because they deny that you gave them the order, and they are doing it because they want to, will get some sort of satisfaction out of it, etc. Is this the source and kind of fun people are having at parties? They are denying the have homework, they are denying that the only reason a cute boy is talking to them is to sleep with them, they deny cigarettes and pot will damage their lungs, they deny they aren’t jealous or feeling as happy as someone else, so on so forth.
Well fuck. Then what does this mean about how it all got started and how deeply it runs? I would imagine it starts with the denial of death. What a great time you can have when you think you’re going to live forever..if you have somehow managed to convince yourself that’s a good idea. When you hate that your sibling or neighbor got something you didn’t, you deny the joy they have. You, every desperate to validate your pathetic notions and misunderstandings of a situation. I don’t even know if I could call this selfish given that it doesn’t even truly work in your favor.
Do I make myself sick because I don’t deny? Do I hate everything because I accept it all? Does it mean I have to be locked in a desperate “towing the line” of cracking and remaining the real and capable person that I know I am? Why do I accept it all? Why am I so likely and so compelled to take on the burden? Do I know way more than I’d like to that no matter what I feel, I still always and forever will know the other side of the coin. I will always see the implications until the end. I will always play out every scenario and am able to talk endlessly about what can and probably will or won’t happen given a set of conditions. I know I can remind myself of the good things, but that’s not good enough. I know I can keep my mind oriented towards the positive, but that’s not good enough. I need to know it all. I need to see it all. I need to not just believe, I need to manifest. I thrive on results, and being proven right, even if it seems to fuck me in certain scenarios. I thrive on being correct. Do I know that provoking steev will cause bowman to give me shit and not want to give back mystic, yes. I do it anyway. Why? I know it will happen. I wish it wouldn’t, I wish more than anything it wouldn’t, but I know it will. Why do I know it will? Because I’m that smart? Because people are that pathetic? A combination of both? Because there is a silent lonely dignity in being correct? When no one else ever seems to be, it’s nice to be reminded that yes you can predict things and yes people, even the smartest or ones you used to have the most faith in, will manage to fit into the line you’ve drawn of their lives.
Puppet master who just wants to be in the audience. Who can never be in the audience. Puppet master playing all the roles, giving a mirror, providing an insight for those who want to watch, but can only be seen as a puppet. No amount of death, drama, jokes, or dances can cut the strings. No one in the audience will refrain from sustaining their childlike “innocence” as they watch and are carried along. Because that’s all they can be, carried along.
I know what people do and don’t care about. This is a giant source of problems as well. I know hatsam doesn’t give a fuck about the house, not really. He doesn’t really appreciate it. He has taught himself to say something a thousand times because he is someone who only needs to say it once, and the rest are just him being him. I know that he knows he would be just as “happy” getting a shitty job in Washington, making new “friends,” fulfilling his obligation to the house and dip setting. I know this because he isn’t getting fulfilled in his relationships with nick, Jeremy, and bendixon. I know this because he doesn’t trust or truly appreciate me. So, when the time runs out, when he gets the chance, he will do anything. Why? Because he’s completely uncaring and knows he’ll be happy regardless. I’m not happy when I don’t care, I’m happy when I care more than anything and things seem to be going right along with the how’s and why that happiness came to be. You can’t be happy and not caring at the same time. It is a false happiness, just not the false you want to admit. You deny how and why it isn’t a real, and that makes you as “happy” or “happier” than anyone else who’s taught themselves a method of denial.
A lot of problems seems to be solved with the idea of denial. It no longer means people aren’t logical. It no longer means they don’t see the same problems I do, it allows them to feel, think, and behave in ways that are exceedingly close to happiness. It allows them to damn themselves without it feeling too bad, and still “love” themselves with the most bastardized understanding of the word. Everything I say, everything I do, all the wrong or right, they can manage to deny what it meant and where it was coming from. This can speak to the level of “deepness” in relationships and why they persist so long amongst people who cause me this level of frustration. We are primarily friends because they deny my blogs, they deny my contributions, they deny my utility, they deny my feelings, they deny my comments and behaviors, and anything else that is essentially me. All for the sake of their own misunderstood, bullshit, lies, and insecurities. They deny me because I am them. They uphold a false “god” and false idol because that voice is only a whisper that can be distorted by drugs and alcohol. They do it because it doesn’t have a real face. They do it because it can be fought by the lack of thought. How necessary is this denial? What thousand purposes has it served that would cause us to adopt it so freely and so loudly, but have it still be this difficult to suss out and discuss?
Have I managed to say how to deal with these deniers? Do I carry them along for a ride? Do I enable? Do I manipulate without a hint of fear, shame, or worry? Do I stop calling how I could behave towards people disrespectful and a denial of their being and understand it as simply acknowledging how they are choosing to be? Do I have to let them know? No. Do I have to feel bad about it? It doesn’t seem like it anymore.
My headache stopped a little while ago, now I have a dull roar of a bunch of new thoughts which I think I’ll be able to manage.
I feel like I see everything. I keep myself positive, but the negative doesn’t disappear. I hate that I see the flaws in people most. If I can’t deal with people, it becomes infinitely harder to get the things I want. I hate that I can’t trust people. I hate that I allow myself to be played by this primal “need” or urge to feel connected and able to open up to people. Why do I feel that? I do I think I need to trust people like hatsam with things about my life. Why do I need to have conversations with these people and struggle to find things about them that I can empathize with? I guess I don’t. I really don’t. Maybe, at bottom I am just simply meant to feel, think, and be alone. At some level. Maybe the key to being as real as possible is to be the best faker possible. Say all the right things, make everyone smile, and “deny” all the truth and objectiveness out there. At least make it look like you’re denying it. What purpose does that serve though? Other than making you “fit in” with people who cause you stress and love to get lost in their lies. That isn’t the whole case though, right? It’s isn’t just a ball of stress and bullshit the whole time or you wouldn’t volunteer yourself to be in positions around them.
Are you just convincing yourself of this? Are you making yourself believe that the fun you have is genuine or is it a hard fought struggle to squeeze what you can out of people who pretend they don’t understand? You feel like you’re trying to convince yourself that you have fun. This seems to mean that you need to reassess and think harder about how and why you’re having fun in those scenarios. You have fun when you’re being funny, when people have real conversations with you, when you make money, when you accomplish something you set your mind to. While you don’t endorse the peoples’ behaviors that come to your parties, you know that you set it up, you’re the one making a little money, you’re the one who can potentially find someone or something of value that will aide you down the line. You’re happy making idiots laugh, knowing their idiots.
You have to keep hatsam at arms length. He doesn’t want to tell you some “big” shit that should come up in conversation, you don’t give him another inch. You chanced it because you’re human, not because you’re stupid. Human means you have a genuine ever present itch to connect with people. It means you will fight your rationality, destroy your body, dive head first into two feet of water to assimilate and play off of the group dynamic and vibe. It does not mean you are always comfortable. It does not mean you won’t be made a hypocrite. It does not mean you can convince yourself of any value to the situation beyond knowing that you’re just a stupid ape who wants to be around other stupid apes for shots in the dark at something more fun and more fulfilling.
God, I would love to just be working. I would love to accomplish and make deals. I want to create, play music, record, make movies, play sports, learn tricks. The level of commitment I have to these things would bring me more joy than just doing them in and of themselves. I could play my guitar for an hour after class every day. I know that to play at the level I want, I’d have to practice 8 to 10 hours a day and potentially have a teacher to show me a few tricks. I know I could create some cool pictures and advertising things, but it would take the hours of lessons in photoshop to really do it right. I want to know my time is going towards the higher dignity of the action, not just spent “doing what I enjoy” as a pathetic excuse for being bored or desperate to look like I’m accomplishing something.
You do laugh at and with these people. Fun is possible and is a good reason to be around someone.
You are alone. Deal with it. You know some real motherfuckers, but just like you, they can’t solve their shit anymore than you can. You guys can collectively bitch at the same level, but that doesn’t mean anything positive, outside of potentially alleviated headaches, can result. Is that a sick necessary consequence of our existence? That you can see the problems, know the people who can make it better, and always sit and watch because there are too many external factors to really get anything done? It seems like it, and it hurts to think it might be true, so let’s explore the other side and see if my head feels less shitty.
The other side: You get enough real people. They all take over a portion of what they are best at. They handle the people they can pick apart better than you. They teach? They force? They persuade? They enable? They do enable. They do the things that make a lot of people “happy” at once and sit in silence and understanding of what they’re doing and how it all works. So this seems to mean the problem lies with the real people. They either perpetuate the general level of bullshit, or they go down in a solo ball of flames in vehement opposition. The other side only able to see the “hypocrisy” and strident anger associated with it.
I have such a fucking headache. Walking around a new city. Done it. Eating at a place that served, at least to me, a mediocre meal and paying 15 dollars for it. Everyone is money grubbing. A better way to say that, everyone wants something they think will provide control and power. Whether you want something that gives you those things in a hippie commune or play by the real world’s rules, those are the things you want. They make you feel unimaginably good. They allow you to provide for those you care about. They allow you to fix problems quickly. But why are those problems there in the first place? The “wrong” people are merely after the same things you are, so it would appear that we are all after the wrong things. What are we after really? What “should” we be after?
I’ll throw out that what we should be after is balance. But a balance of what? Between what? Good and bad? Ideals and fakeness? Headaches and laughter? Is it a balance that we can even control? Is there some underlying law of the universe that is going to make things good or bad for you despite what you think you’ve done to improve your karma.
What if you truly are just destined to be fucked? What if you will just have to deal with everyone and everything from a point of hatred and frustration and there is nothing you can do about it? Every broken relationship, every failed business, every lost dollar, every lonely thought and suicidal night. What if that is what you are? Then you can’t just feel good about it. Then maybe you can’t just think yourself into happiness. Well, have I advocated merely thinking into happiness? It’s more of a process, practice. Thinking is definitely not making me happy right now. It’s causing me a stress headache. And how do I know it’s a stress headache? Because when I think about something I write, and it comes out brilliantly, or I explore some idea, it starts to fade out. This is why I won’t stop until the headache is gone. Somewhere in this everything currently beating the shit out of me will exist, and it won’t have to be crammed in one place.
Money. I am “worried” about money. I have to make enough to keep my roommates and live for one more year. It isn’t the biggest problem in the world, but there are a slew of pretty terrible necessary consequences of not maintain the kind equilibrium I’ve stumbled into currently. I really don’t want to have to deal with a roommate I can’t trust to not take my shit, go into my room, or not start fights over the dumbest shit.
What really bothers me is to think that there aren’t that many stupid people. I don’t know how I would deal with the reality where everyone is just as smart as me and can still manage to carry themselves in the way they do. I don’t know how to survive people like me, thinking about me and how I think, and still being able to get stoned every day. I don’t know how I could convince myself that I don’t care about my life in a year. I don’t know how I could not remind myself that something was a bad decision or that a friend was completely unreliable. I don’t know how I could manage to see literally hundreds of opportunities and convince myself that I need to stay in school. I don’t know how I could judge somebody so horrendously incorrectly that I might as well be lobotomized because there just aren’t any thoughts I am worthy to have. I don’t know how I could pretend not to hear. I don’t know how I could pretend not to see. I don’t know how I could be comfortable with being insanely lazy about something that involves people I should be relatively beholden to. I don’t know how I could spend all day every day playing a game of any nature. I don’t know how I could convince myself that the people I’m playing with are my friends. I don’t know how alcohol by itself is a good time. I don’t understand how making 90 percent of my conversations a reference to some youtube video is fun. I don’t understand wanting to listen to something in Japanese and reading the show I’m supposed to be watching. I don’t understand making a comment in a very snippy pointed manner like “Well then you shouldn’t have said easy!” and not realize it was pointed and snippy; then, if it were to ever be throw back at you, or a snippy pointed thing gets said about something else to you, you’d have a million and a half things to say about it to anyone with a set of ears.
I reveal way too much. My only saving grace is that I can always find a new set of people and work the game correctly again. I allowed my humanity to take me over. I allowed myself to fall into the same kind of ruts of the people I most despise. I can understand you fucking fuck of fucking assholes. I get it, I really fucking sickeningly do. Do I excuse myself? Do I shrug it off? Do I punish myself? Is it even possible to avoid? Is it even something I should treat as a major problem? Is there something wrong with me for even viewing “the human condition” of which I’ve subjected myself to, or been subjected, as this crazy inferior damaging ridiculousness to labor scorn upon? I’m sick of saying yes and no.
I can’t dignify denial. Denial I’m defining as a very direct and pointed understanding of something and behaving in a completely contradictory way. It’s literally running mentally and physically away from something that can, at the very least, be talked about if nothing else. You deny what you’re capable of. You deny how you feel. You deny who you’re real friends are. You deny what makes you happy. You deny that you know how to fix it. Is this why you never really care to understand or exist happily? Why you don’t fix problems. Because you deny they even exist? You truly don’t think they matter? You truly feel helpless. You truly feel alone, at all times, with little to no recourse but to do any and everything in your power to reinforce that wall of denial? That seems to make sense. I get headaches because I genuinely believe I can fix something. Because I am always convinced that I will bump into someone, something, some scenario that won’t make we want to bust out and break down out of anything more than excitement. If I am able to deny that it’s possible. If I am able to convince myself that this is my rut, that these are my people, that nothing, absolutely nothing I do, whether it makes me happy or sad for a fleeting moment, will ever change that, a sense of overall contentedness follows. Religion…this is why hell never actually bothers people because they’re already in the rut that they are saved or at least repentant.
The next question seems to be how to deal with a world of deniers. You can’t deny yourself or, well you’d probably just off yourself as that would be the only thing that made sense. The real problem is that you can’t really be sure that what you’re saying and doing are following from how you meant them to come across. When you give an order, and the order goes through, you can’t trust that it happened because you said the order. Some other “denial world” reason had to permeate that made people behave. They didn’t do it because they respect you, understand you, or even remotely care, they did it because they deny that you gave them the order, and they are doing it because they want to, will get some sort of satisfaction out of it, etc. Is this the source and kind of fun people are having at parties? They are denying the have homework, they are denying that the only reason a cute boy is talking to them is to sleep with them, they deny cigarettes and pot will damage their lungs, they deny they aren’t jealous or feeling as happy as someone else, so on so forth.
Well fuck. Then what does this mean about how it all got started and how deeply it runs? I would imagine it starts with the denial of death. What a great time you can have when you think you’re going to live forever..if you have somehow managed to convince yourself that’s a good idea. When you hate that your sibling or neighbor got something you didn’t, you deny the joy they have. You, every desperate to validate your pathetic notions and misunderstandings of a situation. I don’t even know if I could call this selfish given that it doesn’t even truly work in your favor.
Do I make myself sick because I don’t deny? Do I hate everything because I accept it all? Does it mean I have to be locked in a desperate “towing the line” of cracking and remaining the real and capable person that I know I am? Why do I accept it all? Why am I so likely and so compelled to take on the burden? Do I know way more than I’d like to that no matter what I feel, I still always and forever will know the other side of the coin. I will always see the implications until the end. I will always play out every scenario and am able to talk endlessly about what can and probably will or won’t happen given a set of conditions. I know I can remind myself of the good things, but that’s not good enough. I know I can keep my mind oriented towards the positive, but that’s not good enough. I need to know it all. I need to see it all. I need to not just believe, I need to manifest. I thrive on results, and being proven right, even if it seems to fuck me in certain scenarios. I thrive on being correct. Do I know that provoking steev will cause bowman to give me shit and not want to give back mystic, yes. I do it anyway. Why? I know it will happen. I wish it wouldn’t, I wish more than anything it wouldn’t, but I know it will. Why do I know it will? Because I’m that smart? Because people are that pathetic? A combination of both? Because there is a silent lonely dignity in being correct? When no one else ever seems to be, it’s nice to be reminded that yes you can predict things and yes people, even the smartest or ones you used to have the most faith in, will manage to fit into the line you’ve drawn of their lives.
Puppet master who just wants to be in the audience. Who can never be in the audience. Puppet master playing all the roles, giving a mirror, providing an insight for those who want to watch, but can only be seen as a puppet. No amount of death, drama, jokes, or dances can cut the strings. No one in the audience will refrain from sustaining their childlike “innocence” as they watch and are carried along. Because that’s all they can be, carried along.
I know what people do and don’t care about. This is a giant source of problems as well. I know hatsam doesn’t give a fuck about the house, not really. He doesn’t really appreciate it. He has taught himself to say something a thousand times because he is someone who only needs to say it once, and the rest are just him being him. I know that he knows he would be just as “happy” getting a shitty job in Washington, making new “friends,” fulfilling his obligation to the house and dip setting. I know this because he isn’t getting fulfilled in his relationships with nick, Jeremy, and bendixon. I know this because he doesn’t trust or truly appreciate me. So, when the time runs out, when he gets the chance, he will do anything. Why? Because he’s completely uncaring and knows he’ll be happy regardless. I’m not happy when I don’t care, I’m happy when I care more than anything and things seem to be going right along with the how’s and why that happiness came to be. You can’t be happy and not caring at the same time. It is a false happiness, just not the false you want to admit. You deny how and why it isn’t a real, and that makes you as “happy” or “happier” than anyone else who’s taught themselves a method of denial.
A lot of problems seems to be solved with the idea of denial. It no longer means people aren’t logical. It no longer means they don’t see the same problems I do, it allows them to feel, think, and behave in ways that are exceedingly close to happiness. It allows them to damn themselves without it feeling too bad, and still “love” themselves with the most bastardized understanding of the word. Everything I say, everything I do, all the wrong or right, they can manage to deny what it meant and where it was coming from. This can speak to the level of “deepness” in relationships and why they persist so long amongst people who cause me this level of frustration. We are primarily friends because they deny my blogs, they deny my contributions, they deny my utility, they deny my feelings, they deny my comments and behaviors, and anything else that is essentially me. All for the sake of their own misunderstood, bullshit, lies, and insecurities. They deny me because I am them. They uphold a false “god” and false idol because that voice is only a whisper that can be distorted by drugs and alcohol. They do it because it doesn’t have a real face. They do it because it can be fought by the lack of thought. How necessary is this denial? What thousand purposes has it served that would cause us to adopt it so freely and so loudly, but have it still be this difficult to suss out and discuss?
Have I managed to say how to deal with these deniers? Do I carry them along for a ride? Do I enable? Do I manipulate without a hint of fear, shame, or worry? Do I stop calling how I could behave towards people disrespectful and a denial of their being and understand it as simply acknowledging how they are choosing to be? Do I have to let them know? No. Do I have to feel bad about it? It doesn’t seem like it anymore.
My headache stopped a little while ago, now I have a dull roar of a bunch of new thoughts which I think I’ll be able to manage.
