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The difference

November 21, 2013

Somewhere deep down, I think greatly of myself. In that tucked away place, I love myself. I know my value. As a result, I am hurt and angered when I am not lauded for the things I do that I believe have worth. If I didn’t love myself, and if I didn’t know my value, I would be dead or I would have conformed to the status quo. It’s not like I CAN’T conform. It would be as dramatic as death would be, though.

And herein lies the difference between MTIA and me:

MTIA puts on a great show of loving himself, believing in his talents, being confident, but at his core, he does not believe in this worth. As a result, he is hurt and angry when he is not lauded for the things he does, as a lack of praise means that he is failing to put on a good show at life.

It’s a very, very big difference – if it is true. Because why put on the show at all if you really don’t care?

Right now, MTIA says this about himself, but I would generally say the same thing about myself, hoping to receive affirmation of my worth. It wouldn’t actually be true. So, somewhere, it’s possible that MTIA is wrong about himself. I don’t think he’s aware of it yet, even. (Right, because  am so clearly enlightened about understanding one’s self). And if he’s wrong, then over time, things may change. Things… could get better. For each of us, of course, but for us, too.

Because there is no us, not now, not before, and likely, not ever.

I need, like, a paradigm shift. I need to learn to truly feel things on my own. I need to do my own thing. I do not spend all day thinking about my best friends, missing them, wondering what’s wrong if I don’t hear from them for a day. I’m also not fucking any of my best friends on a regular basis or, for that matter, ever, except, apparently, MTIA.

There is no definition to our interactions. Each day is what it is. I give him my artwork, he plies me with pastries and alcohol. We talk about anything, find ourselves saying shit that might be construed as hurtful but that is always honest, and is thusly preferred to silence or lies. We truly value one another. We get each other. But we cannot, must not, under any circumstances, love each other.

If I’m so goddamned valuable, why am I never enough? I keep asking myself, and I asked MTIA as well. He asked if I meant that in general or why I am not enough for him. I told him that the word “never” manages to cover past, present, and future, so both. Of the last two minutes or so of his response, I remember nothing except, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Oh, and also, “Let’s be real. If I was going to get comfortable in a stable, monogamous relationship, obviously I’d settle down with my roommate.”

Fuck. That.

“But… she’s so mean to you!”

He defended her. Likely would defend me to her, too, but he sure as shit doesn’t plan a future with me in it.

But then, I don’t think he plans a future. Not that he’s suicidal (not typically). He just lives from moment to moment.

What if we lived in a world where suicide was a socially acceptable thing? Like, you decide you’ve had enough, you hire a suicide assistant to manage your affairs, and then you wander off into the woods to die, not unlike a cat. It could be a park, funded and tended to by the world government(s) or something. Burial plots are ready to go, and, like those tiny Japanese capsule hotels, your space is ready for you. There are some blankets, biodegradable, your death cocktail. You drink, you lay down to sleep, and you die. And the thing is, in this imaginary society, this is totally normal. How would current social norms, mores, beliefs have to change to accommodate something like this? Could be an interesting nugget to work on in some future short story form.

God. MTIA says we’re fucked up. He is very, very right.

The worst part is not knowing whether these are my own feelings or just everything I get from him.

Yup. I’ve gone round the bend.

It would be really sweet, too, if people could voluntarily go have a breakdown as needed, get committed, and then come back to society like a Phoenix reborn from the ashes (i.e., mental hospital) without any social stigma.

Round. The. Bend.


From → fiction, rants

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