Grow Up Already

The last few days have been incredibly difficult for me for one reason and one reason only.

I have been forced to accept I am old.

It first started to dawn on me when I realised I was no longer young and cool enough to be part of the crowd who hangs out and parties. I also realised I was not old enough to sit at home and play parchese, or whatever it is old people do.

I am in that transition zone built mostly for people with young families and mid level jobs.

I myself am alone and in a dead end job I hate. The kind of thing early to mid tweenties dorksticks do.

I am too old to be that guy. I am too old to be shiftless and merely concerned with my own entertainment and making ironic comments on annoying celebrities.

I need to grow up. I had to realise today at the hospital that I need to start taking care of myself. The doctor frightened me with his talk. He essentially said my body was rebelling. And rightfully so. I have abused it for a very very long time.

I am at a loss for what to do. It all seems so foreign and difficult.

I just want to have fun, but I am too old to do that, yet I am completely unattractive to people my own age.

Life has passed me by.

It makes me sad to realise that I have no peers, and people now look at me as the douchey old guy trying to look cool and overacting with the kids. They look at me as a joke, and that pisses me off.

The older people look at me as immature, and that just pisses me off.

Once again, I am on the outside looking in, and it makes me sad....and pissed off.

Beggary

It occured to me today that we all see the world in our own way. Perception is based on previous experience.

The psychological and physiological theory is about sense memory. The majority of our vision is based on previous knowledge and experience. This leads us to all experience the world in our fashion, in our own little box, where everything is experienced in a special way.

When I look at you, I see something different than when you look at you.

Some days, like today, I would like to see the world the way you do. I want to see the world as a place of goodness and light. I would like to see the sunshine as more than a betrayer of shadows. A light source that only means I have to hide more, or wait longer for the warm embrace of the darkness which hides my shame, hides my ugliness, hides my anger.

I would like to see the world of possibility instead of the world of probability.

It is the difference between the optimist and the pessimist, but it is more than that. If only I could understand how the world sees me, then I could know what to do. Then I could know how to act, how to change, how to survive in your world.

I am still on the outside, still looking in. I am still seeing the dark places in the world instead of the bright spots, and I am still seeing my own self as something unworthy.

I would love to see how you see the world and how you see me. Unfortunately, there is never truth in this world. No one will ever tell you what they think or how they feel. They think they are doing you a favour, but in the end, they are not sparing your feelings, they are sparing their own.

No one ever seeks growth and true exchange of thought and feeling. people just seek the easy way out. They search for the minimum they have to do to get out without having to confront reality.

Confronting reality means challenging your perceptions. Seeing something for what it truly is, rather than for what you created it to be. Seeing the true dimensions of a thing instead of what you think the thing is.

Look at me. What do you see?

Lend me your eyes and I will tell you a tale.

Crazy Italian Restaurant.

I have been in a foul mood for some time now. I think it is because I am slowly starting to realise who I am and it sucks balls. Large hairy monkey balls.

I am a fat, lonely guy in a wife beater and boxer shorts, eating a frozen dinner and watching tv alone.

This is not something that I would have ever wanted for myself. I am in a dead end job, where creativity and intellect go to die.

I am horrible at decision making. All of my decisions led me to this point and it blows.

I know this is not happy, nor is it particularly creative. It just is.

I remember thinking to myself that I wanted to die when I was 19. I had a very bad year, full of pain and despair. I lost everyone and everything. I remember thinking to myself that I did not belong in this life, and the only reason I stuck it out was to fulfil someone else's wishes; someone else's dreams.

I drank, snorted, smoked my way to near death, but at the last minute something stopped me. I am not sure what it was any more, and I certainly don't give a rat's ass any more.

I went through the next ten years living someone else's dreams of what I shoud, would or could be. None of it mattered to me. I think that is why I ruined it all.

I think that is why I decided to marry someone I wasn't really in to. It is kind of sad that she was the only one ho ever really decided to be with me for any length of time, despite the fact I was only in it for the comfort of it.

I thought I was making a real change two years ago. I went to school and worked my ass off....ok that isn't true. One of the curses of not having to try at anything and still succeed is that you never really gain an appreciation for working at it, and for the thing itself. The curse of an electric mind is that it means you never ever have to do anything, shit just hapens and you roll with it.

The ability to interpret, extrapolate and then bullshit is not good. I never have to actually learn anything or try hard. The results are always the same. Information comes in, and it just sticks there, as long as the power is on.

Despite this gift, I find myself in such a horrible place. The other day a person said to me that it must be nice to be so smart. What makes you think thatÉ Being smart has not led to any benefit. In fact, I am in a worse place than they are. I have the same dead end job, but I am aone and eating microwave dinners.

My brain has not managed to land me anything awesome or worthwhile. This person has a fiance, is making more money than me and has fun things they like to do. I go to work, I come home, I microwave a burrito, I watch the daily show, I go to bed, and then I do it all over again.

I stand on the outside looking in and like what I see, but haven`t the foggiest idea how to achieve it. Maybe it is because I am lazy, maybe it is because I never like to do anything for the sake of doing it, and thus without tangible results, or the promise of tangible results, I just sit and do nothing.

I never wanted this life. I never really wanted any life. I wanted to be dead by now. I wished it so hard it almost came true, but those doctors were full of shit.

I know this is the lament of the lonely, and in so lamenting, I further cement my loneliness, but you see, there is nothing left for me to do but lament.

Reaching for the stars, going for broke, or trying that crazy Italian restaurant was never my thing. In a life where torment and despair was always the end resut of everything »I tried, of every risk taken, you learn to not touch the fucking stove, you dumb ass. How many time do you have to be burned before you stop touching the goddammed thing?

In a certain way I greive for the boy who lost it all, but to me, what good is it? How long can a person ive life in the way of an observer? How many times can I watch some other douche get the girl, some suit wearing tool bag get the job, some mediocre wit surpass my accomplishments before I just say, fuck it?

That was and is my greatest fear. How long before I settle again? How long before I just say, oh well and be satisfied with my dead end job that allows me to come home, watch a little daily show, eat a Jamaican patty and play a little madden?

How long before I give up?

How long after that before I realise life can't work that way for me?

How long before I wake up and realise I wasn't meant to be this way; wasn't meant to live past 20, or 25, or 30.

How long before I stop marking time?

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.