True to form, I go about talking and manage to fly all over the page without finding precise enough language. I stated that I wanted the PSA to be about what I'm not saying and then tried to describe something hard to define with an inadequate example. So I'll try to do better.
I didn’t mean to say that my situation revolves around a problem with being superficial. I get that with pleasantries we are all “perfect liars” in our capacity to carry on with a group of strangers. I didn’t mean to suggest that you are supposed to feel some sort of deep or meaningful connection that elevates them to a kind of long term investment or friend. The problem is not about being personable or disarming in and of themselves. The problem is not about the other peoples’ misconceptions or hurt feelings.
I felt it too redundant and obvious to carry on as if relationships don’t mean different things to different people. Am I not the poster child for talking about utility? I wasn’t seeking reassurance that what I have or create is “more valid” or at least “as valid” as someone who resolves their decision making in feelings.
I frequently remind people I’m only as good as what I do for them. To tell me I care about my friends almost feels like a challenge not to. My default contrarian “fuck you” as it were. Attempts to tell me where I’m coming from before you take what I say and try to unpack it or ask a question sit very poorly with me. This is not the same thing as not wanting feedback, but I’m writing to get at what I mean, so I don’t lose my mind, not to be “inferred” about and certainly not to be “reassured.” I know it’s coming from a good place, but it’s more confusing than anything else. I’m happy to own my incomplete idea or miserable sounding tone.
The problem feels more “general.” It feels more “blah.” It’s a state of mind, a consequence of personal philosophy or maybe inadequate access to expound upon a better one. I wanted to talk about the consequences of being aware of it permeating everything I do and say. It’s only ever “good” or “bad” to the extent I get comfortable with the varying consequences.
Whether life is arbitrary or not, I attempt to make sure “I’m” not being arbitrary. That’s in service to the “sociopath” part of “relative sociopath.” The times I look into the nihilistic abyss and only take away the adages of an angsty teenager, unnecessarily boisterous drunkard, or of an impersonal shoulder shrug. When I’ve gone out to “have a good time” because I took your advice and didn’t just fuck off in my basement like I wanted. Because I wanted. Because the string of my decisions and circumstances leading me there are “more correct” than doing otherwise.
The part of me that does that is the alienation by choice. The part of me that’s provoked people to cry, follow me into “battle,” or feel comfortable with what I’ve exuded as my presence is the alienation by internal condition. People don’t do what I do or sound like me. When they do, they’re Byron.
And it’s not like I think I’m talking about an impossibly foreign concept and that people don’t get it, but it’s like a huge pair of tits. My back has felt pain too, but I’ll never really know your struggle. Just like people know what it is to be “cold,” or mean, or delightfully superficial in their fitting into cultural lives, but I feel burdened by a capacity and proclivity towards those things that gives people a chance for an “emotionally unencumbered scapegoat.” If you hate your mom, I got mine to file for a restraining order. If you’re polite, I’ve already screamed fuck way too loud around all the children and fellow restaurant goers, several times. If you want something burned down, I have half the things we need in my trunk.
I think my utility, in that sense, is giving license, because I take mine. Do that enough or in an irresponsible way and someone’s going to start noticing the body count. It’s a toll taken on your psyche, relationships, and “potential accomplishments” depending on whose turn it is to define what those mean to you.
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