Originally Posted: 03/18/09
I've been pretty bent on self-destruction now for a number of years. Not in a typical sense, where I scarf down drugs and bring physical harm to myself, consciously or subconsciously trying to do enough damage to destroy me, but in an atypical sense where I do a more efficient job. It's an emotional trauma, a wounding of the psyche, something that people really bent on destroying themselves, as a few of you can attest I'm sure, are familiar with. I've done my share of the physical stuff, and aside from smoking and drinking a little too much, I've gotten over it. The glam and the allure just isn't there for me anymore. I do, however, have this recurring habit of alienating myself. I do and say offensive things, and I don't wonder why people flee from me like farmers from a Viking raid, I know why the do. It's because I'm an asshole. Quite simply put.
Now, I don't intend to change my ways, I'm not apologizing. I'm just stating a fact that's gone overlooked. Not by the rest of you, but by me. You may have heard me marvel over it these past few weeks. Bear with me, the novelty of this particular realization hasn't quite worn off yet. It's true though. I'm the kind of person you either love or hate. There really isn't any begrudging respect, no passing affection. You love me, you hate me. No in between. I like that. Too many areas of my life have gray spots. This one doesn't. I like how cohesive it is, how very....defined.
I, of course, could give a shit less. The vast majority of you could eat a bullet and it wouldn't even put a damper on my day. Some of you, though, an ever-growing number (surprisingly enough) are more important. I'm proud of what we have. I take joy in our friendships, our companionship, our mutual affection for one another. I trust that most of those people know who they are, and I just want to thank them for being there, because they don't get enough of it. Before you ask, no you can't have a hug.You can, however, have my undying appreciation, my unfettered love, and the joy at seeing the look on my face when I realize just how much of my shit you put up with. Really, it's amazing none of you have broken my fucking jaw yet. Seriously, slap me around once in a while. I need it to soften my ego.
Before I go on, I want to share a discovery with you all. Today, I found out that if a group of young ladies walks into a place of business like, say, a KFC, and the bastard behind the counter greets them with "Hey, bitches," they won't miss a beat. They just place their order and leave. Do you know why? Two reasons. 1.) Women like that aren't people. They're...I don't know what. 2.) They think they're better than you. Why? Because they're sniveling, spoiled little cunts, that's why. Fuck them, man. Let them eat a dick.
Anyway. I'm really happy this evening. Not for any reason, really. I'm just...smiling. Really, wide-eyed, rosy cheeks, glowing with unabashed joy smiling. I know the original source, and I'm sure it isn't that difficult to figure it out. Trace the timeline of my joy back three weeks and you'llfind yourself saying "I'm a moron, of course it's [name withheld for amusement purposes]!" However, feeling the way I do makes one begin to appreciate the other good things around them. Not the beauty of it all. This isn't like walking in the spring time and seeing all the trees and shit, something that a certain abstinence pamphlet compared with sex (seriously, it was nuts). No, this is just a good feeling. Helps me get in touch with my inner optimist and stop worrying about all the shit I can't change.
Which brings me to my point:
I'm fucking awesome.
Now, now children don't get excited. I know I just rambled on about how I'm an asshole and it's finally set in. Nothing's changed, there has been no rescheduling of the exam (If you want to amuse yourself, read 'rescheduling' aloud as if you were one of those posh assholes with a rich guy accent). Rather, I've realized that my asshole side is only fuel for how amazing I am. I've got like...nine other sides. All equally cool. Really. It's insane. I can't believe my head doesn't explode with the pure awesomeness that I embody.
Yep. I work at a KFC. Yep, I did have to leave a great college because I'm too broke to pay for it. Yep, I do have an overwhelming amount of debt looming over my head like a tsunami bearing down on Thailand. Fuck it. I'm charming and generous and good natured. Nothing makes me happier than seeing other people happy and knowing I helped make them that way. I've started to think babies are cute, rather than just something to be impaled on pikes (though that's still on the table for some of them). I can sing, I can write, I can feel fucking alive and I don't need anyone's permission. In fact, I don't expressly need anything. I want things, and Lord I want certain things, but I can survive without it. These are only some of my flaws and triumphant characteristics. However, you get the picture. Good outweighs the bad. I'm desirable (to me, at any rate) and that makes me confident and fills my mind with gibberish.
There's this one girl, right? There are a few hundred thousand (possibly an exaggeration) things I would just love to say to her. Swoony, mushy things. The kind of shit that makes old timey romance look like prettied-up shit talking. I'm going to hold off, though. For what reason? I don't know. It just doesn't feel like the right time to unload all that. Right now feels like a time for support and displays of caring, maybe the occasional bout of awesomeness, but not rampant affection and pretty poetic nonsense. I don't mean to be vapid or mysterious or whatever, but she's the tits and she knows it. God damn, I'm in a good mood! See that? I used an exclamation point. I typically drive home my point with swearing and clever similies, but not this time. Punctuation, nigga. Punctu-fucking-ation. I could leap bridges and build monuments right now. Or play a really rousing game of tennis and then fuck for like twelve seconds. Best twelves seconds of your life, baby.
Want to know what else? In Darkness Dwells is badass. Yeah, I italicized it. It's proper English. You italicize the title of longer works such as novels, plays, and metal albums. It even sounds good on shitty speakers. Suck on that, other guys. I'll do a whole review at some point, because I'm feeling like a music critic and, let's face it, I can't just fill this blog with useless shit none of you need to know. If I did, you fuckers would be pleased and I can't have that. I'm an asshole, not a people pleaser. Unless you've got a vagina. Like I said, best twelve seconds of your life. That's B-team.
I'm rambling, and I don't care.
Friends, family, assorted sexual deviants, I love you one and all. You're everything I have in this world, and I'm nothing without all of you. I thank you for that, for being with me throughout anything. It is you who make the monster and may God have mercy on your souls.
Goodnight.
With unfathomable joy and crescendoes of gratitude (stole it from Kamelot),
-S.R.
No comments:
Post a Comment