All my friends think I am a pretend-asshole. I am not…I really am an asshole. I am so glad I have so few friends to worry about. I mean imagine a horde of a million, even a hundred, annihilating me for being an insensitive pretentious bastard (which I happen to be, minus the pretentious part).
First off, I’d like to tell everyone I’ve ever come across in this life, that I am me not by choice but by make. I didn’t choose anything for myself other than the jeans I wear and the faded t-shirts that I sheath my shoulders with. I didn’t choose this life, believe me!
Secondly, I never did go around trying to make friends with anyone. Well, if u liked me and if I could tolerate you, it was fine. But if u didn’t like me and I didn’t care for your company, you should have walked away then and there. It would have been best for both of us. You would have been spared this brutally truthful confession and I would have been spared the embarrassment I’ve had to fake.
Believe me, you are a nice person. Just not for me. Damn! I feel guilty now, which I simply loath. Wait a minute, What am I saying? I feel for you? Yuck! No, I mean I feel sorry for you for knowing me. Yeah, that’s more like it. You poor, imbecile. How hard it must have been, to try and learn to like a recluse creature like me. I feel sorry you put your trust in me.
Thanks to you, I am straying from the point that I was intending to make. A point I would have loved to convey in a line, but had to write so much to get to. Why? Because of you!
Shit! Does that mean I love you? Obviously not. You don’t have the recklessness of an Anz or the authority of a Maa. You definitely lack the defiance of a Sam or the adventurousness of a Koks. How can I love you then? No, I can’t even like you, to be precise.
Ok…so why am I talking to you? A nobody? Hmmm. I guess it’s because there’s no Anz or Maa or Sam or Koks to talk to. Anz, I don’t talk too often to because I don’t want him to know my weaknesses. Maa, she’ll ridicule me to oblivion with a barrage of insults (which by the way are well deserved), Sam, the less said about that situation the better (if ignorance is really bliss), and Koks, how can you expect a happy fairy to even concur that bad things do happen in this world?
Yeah it’s a sad situation. I am talking to myself and pretending that the world is listening to me. Hmmm. Did I say pretend? Yeah, it seems I did. Such a lovely word isn’t it? Pretend. And such a truthful word even. It’s something anyone can do without rehearsal. Once you’ve done it, you’re a master of the art. I know I am.
That brings me back to where I started, I hate myself. Why? Because I survive. How? By pretending. To be happy, to be loved, to be needed, to be indispensible, to be popular, to be fashionable, to be so many other things that I really am not. Why? Because I am pretending to be human. And I am really finding it fruitless and unrewarding.
Tell me how to escape this. I didn’t choose to be here, neither will I ever choose to leave by my doing. So, if I can’t do it myself, and if I can’t live with myself, what do I do?