Boo

I once wrote this fanciful little story about a dude who was followed around by ghosts. Not Casper the friendly ghost, and not necessarily angry poltergeists. It was a lame little thing that really went nowhere. I then tried to turn it in to a horror story, but the ending was too obvious the way I wrote it, so suspense was kind of lost.

I considered rewriting it here and now as a short story to drive a point home, but I am too tired for metaphor today.

I am too frustrated by myself to bother masking my emotions.

I recently went on a new age rampage about dreams and such. I told you all to try and dream. I am sorry for that.

I wrote all these flowery things about how the world can be a pretty place, but I am so wrong. I know you think this has to do with one thing, but you are wrong. That is merely a symptom of a greater disease.

We are all haunted by the things we have done. Some of us aren't haunted. Some of us merely ramble and shamble on because our ghosts are quiet.

Every once in a while a person comes in to your life whose ghosts are wearing chains, dragging other ghosts and wailing like banshees.

I am one of those people.

At a certain point you have to recognize what is and what is not. I have done so.

I tend to wish I was something that I am not. You pretend to be something for so long, you hope that you become it. This cool person I met this week remindedd me of the saying fake it till you make it. I realised today when I was trying to figure out a way to make this person a more permanent fixture in my life that I am who I have always been, yet noone knows it.

In case you are thinking I am on the path to infatuation with this woman, keep in mind she is one of those people whose thighs don't touch....which is just freaky. She's just one of those funny, sarcastic, caring people I like.

Anyway, the point is, I strip away the fake, and present to you the monkey. I so so because I am tired of pretending. I am tired of making a spectacle of myself. I am tired of hating me.

I have a shit ton of ghosts. I have been surrounded by sorrow all my life. I have done this before, but I have always lied. I have always eluded to things, and make no mistake, I have no interest in being specific right now. Suffice to say, by the time I was 10, several family members met violent ends.

By the time I was 15 sveral friends had met violent ends. By the time I was 22, everyone I had ever loved was gone.

If you think this is something you can just shrug off you are wrong. It stays with you. It forces you to question your value as a human being, and generally it is not good for someone in my position to think this way.

I hate myself.

More importantly I hate people.

I have been dissapointed by every human being I have ever come in to contact with.

I do not trust you.

I do not feel safe with you.

This is why I pretend.

I am not smart, I am cunning. The difference is, I can convince you of things, and I can manipulate. I cannot empathise. I cannot think logically, merely critically.

I cannot prethink. I can only post think.

I am lucky enough to be gifted with survival instincts that cause me to do what needs to be done in most situations, but that is all it is, instinct, not smarts.

I am a crappy writer. I am just not skilled enough to do it. My grade 7 english teacher was right. Can you believe I have done all of this in an attempt to give him the finger?

I hold grudges.

For twelve years I have tried to be that which I am not. I ttried to be one of you. I tried to like people. I tried to find love. I tried to find companionship. I tried to slice of my piece of the pie, but it ain;t gonna happen.

I hate people...a lot.

I am angry and full of rage.

Think of it this way, I can't trust a single human being.

Every last one of them has betrayed me in some fashion. Many because I had expectations that were unreachable.

It was nice of Chad to say I am not ugly, but he is wrong. I am disfigured, fat and not symetrical (by the way, if you want proof I am a bad writter, it is in that unparrelel sentence structure).

It is said by many an artist that beauty lies in symetry. This is true not only of art but also of attraction. my right side is bigger than my left. Part of it is due to my "accident" in childhood. This actually is what you see when you look at me, and why you dismiss me. I used to think it was my weight that mattered the most in this scenario. I would point to my youth as the reasoning. I didn't used to be this big. I always had hotties leaning on me.

I also always had a big sack of drugs and was a dangerous rebel type. Any guesses why I had a girlfriend?

In my life, I have never had a person want me for me. Not once.

Maybe it is because since Joe, no one has known me.

E was right though. E was always right. I am not now, nor have I ever been like you.

I am so tired of trying. I am so tired of pretending to like people. I am so tired of saying, oh how interesting.

I am so tired of wanting. I idealize every last one of you. I always think you like me, and then when I push the matter you puke in your fucking mouth.

Guess how angry that makes me.

Oh, so you are just being nice to me to get what you want from me, but the instant I ask for my needs to be met you walk away, or you act all surprised. I am tired of giving, and now I am going to take.

I am really not a very nice person.

It feels good to say these things. It feels good to finally say how I feel about people.

I tried to have a dream, and I filled it with half assed charaters who never fit the role I cast for them. It is on one hand unfair for me to have cast them in anything. It denies them their identity, and places restrictions on them that do not allow them to be them. It is unfair that they seemed to be one thing when they were not.

I am too tired to argue, too tired to fight, to tired to pretend anymore.

Did you know that I only write this stuff for a few people. People who don`t actually know the real me.

I think that is a horrible reason to pollute the internet. Like so many of my infatuations, nothing will ever come of it. I will always think it is more than it is.

If you want me to not get the wrong idea, stop feeding me. Stop pretending I matter in any way.

It is like the person I mentioned earlier. She told me about this one jerk hole, I also wrote about him the other day, he is an objectifier of women, won`t leave her alone and is a total douche. Thing is, she smiles at him and treats him with politeness and interest. Now, she has informed me she has zero interest in him as a human being and wishes he would go away. She smiles at me as well. Talks to me. Jokes with me. Yet inside she could be thinking this dude is an ass and I wish he would go away. This is the exact reason why I can`t figure out how to approach her.

This is the perfect metaphor for every other relationship I have ever had with either sex.

Sorry for making this public. I have this other friend. She has always known I am attracted to her. She has always known I want more than she gives me. It must kill her because she has no idea what signals she is sending that may be giving off this vibe to me that says it is ok to continue behaving the way I do. It must kill her to realise I am half of what she wants. I fit a good chunk of her desires, but I am also too far aqay in others for her to ever consider me in that way. I know this to be true, but I keep thinking she will change. She once told me that will never happen. It must hurt her something fierce to know I won`t either.

If it matters to you, I do hate that I hurt you.


I don`t like hurting the innocent, but to an extent, she is not innocent. She just doesn`t realise she isn`t innocent.

I can`t be friends with anyone. I have unrealistic expectations.

E was my last friend, and he is dead.

Today I resigned myself to a shitty existance. One with no future. An ordinary life lived in a way that will bring no harm to others.

Today, all ambition died, and I don`t care.

Meaningless encounters with people who don`t give a crap about me are preferable to the pain I continuely bring on myself.

So, if you aare a `friend,`and if you are reading this, you certainly consider yourself one, late, I am out.

I am going away now. I am going somewhere where no one knows my name. Where no one has expectations of me, because they know me not. It is in this that I can be me without fear of loss. I fear it so much, yet create it every turn I make.

I can no longer pretend to be what you need me to be. I am done pretending you are what I am looking for.

If you think this is sour grapes then you do not know me very well.

I am tired of wanting things I cannot have.

I am tired of trying.

No one seems to accept me when I let them in, so I am tired of opening myself up a little.

I am shutting down for good.

Fuck it as they say. I am so tired I am not even going to edit this bitch.