Saturday, July 9, 2011

Complicated Thoughts

   One heck of a lot has happened in the last few weeks, and I keep meaning to get on here and write about it. But then I realize that A: no one that cares is likely to read it, and B: anyone who does care and reads it is likely to be offended. So, since when do I care? Well, that's just the point. No matter how much we try to pretend that we don't care, is that really possible? Can you live with everyone else's crap and honestly not care what they think of you? I mean not even in the slightest, most insignificant way? Seriously? Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe we should let the world see our demons and tell them off if they don't like it. Maybe we should tell them exactly what we think of their close-minded opinions and overgrown egos. But then, does that make us any better? But do we have to be better? I mean, why care? Because somehow we feel we have to live up to someone's expectations, or at least make an attempt to. But what if we already know there's no way we can ever live up to our own? Does that mean we should purposefully fall short? I mean, I know I'll never be anything close to the person I wish I could be, but does that mean I should walk away, no questions asked?
   For anyone that doesn't personally know me, you're not missing out on anything. For anyone who does know me, why are you still bothering to read this anyway? If I haven't let you down, I will. If I haven't broken your trust, I'm sure I'll manage that too. And if I haven't already destroyed at least one of your dreams, it's probably somewhere on my to do list. Just ask any one of a number of people that no longer visit my page, seek my advice, text me out of boredom, or wonder why they bothered to know me to begin with. I can give you a list, a long one.
   I have a few ex's that might argue that I didn't ruin their lives. Heck, a few may even say they miss me still. Okay, more than a few. But what do they miss? Nothing to do with me. They mostly miss the things I never truly was, the image they saw reflected back in my eyes, and they way I could manage to be interested in whatever they wanted me to like. I lost myself in those years, lacking the desire to remember what I truly was. And I miss that feeling most days. I miss the obliviousness to this reality I have chosen, the obviously lacking desire to be anything more than what I was expected to be.
   And yet somehow I know that this has nothing to do with me. I can't be that person you want me to. I can't pretend that the world spinning doesn't make me hesitate before taking a step, or that the rain falling slows down my desires to run naked down the street. I can't sit back and relax and be that nice polite young lady that you want to see sitting across from you, much less keep my mouth shut while you spread your lies and blasphemy.
   And if you're still reading this, I'm in awe and I have no idea why. Check your laundry, see if dinner is burning yet, or browse the television for some new dumb show to rot your brain.
   Meanwhile, if you must continue to sit and stare, gawk at these things your can not pretend to let fade into the background, then I implore you to at least open your thoughts enough to let the words flow rather than persist to echo. The echo does no good, it does not help you to understand it any better, and further complicates the message.
   You want to know about me? The things I can admit to, the things that I'm not hesitant to say, should it result in crucifiction? Here's one: I don't agree with you. Let's just get that out there in the open to begin with. Your life is yours, mine is mine. And that works, for both of us. As for whose life is better, who cares? I run away into the abyss of my own world when your world gets too complicated for me to handle it anymore. And sometimes that isolation last just a few hours, other times a few years. But who was keepnig track anyway? I create a world that is safe for me, although I assure you there really is no such thing. How could there be?
   But alas, my rambling has brought me to no point near the one I originally intended. So, for anyone who reaches this point, consider this to have taught you two things, simply put. 1 - whoever you are, I'm sure that my world isn't worth your knowing, and 2 - never read the insane ramblings posted on random blogs, they almost inevitably lead to nowhere in the end anyway...

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