Kind of like this :

But, ya know. Different.

I have once more circled back to the idea of simply letting my ego expand out of control and see how far that takes me.

I mean, objectively speaking, I am extremely intelligent. To the point of being smarter than most people. I can think rings around the general populace, I’ve been a high academic achiever for my whole life without ever trying hard, and my first drafts are better than most people’s final drafts.

Plus I’m hilarious. Or so I have been told.

So there’s certainly a lot to base a huge ego on. I’ve resisted developing one for a long time for various reasons, including :

1. early childhood admonitions from siblings against getting a “swelled head”, whatever that means. Don’t make us jealous of you, I guess
2. the feeling that once my ego started to expand, it would just keep going until I was a raving loonie with delusions of grandeur in a rubber room somewhere. Probably wouldn’t actually happen but still, the idea scares me.
3. Not wanting to lose my slender connection with the rest of humanity (what I call my egalitarianism) by letting my ego and my mind take me way up into the stratosphere where I can’t even relate to other geniuses any more and become alien to my own species
4. not wanting to turn into the raging arsehole I have always known I could be if I let my ego run wild. I’m talking about a smug, self-satisfied, mocking kind of prick who uses his mental superiority to manipulate people and circumstance to his own advantage and who ruthlessly uses his IQ advantage to take what he wants and to hell with the consequences to anyone but himself because fuck all these idiots, I can cheat them blind with one neural ganglion tied behind my back, so why not take advantage of that to get everything I want?

It’s that last one that haunts me because I am definitely tempted.

I mean, with my amazing mind I can skate around most people like they are standing still. It would be absurdly easy for me to manipulate those stunted statues into giving me their money and thanking me for it.

So why should I be stuck in this pathetic little life when I have godlike mental powers that could let me write my own ticket if I could just stop being so lame?

I mean, here I am, brain the size of a planet, and all I do is eat junk food, play video games, and hang out with my friends. I could be living the good life, with a house of my own, a car and driver, a sweet job in the creative field, and loads of disposable income I can use to indulge every little whim I am ever had,

Surely I am entitled to some level of reward for all the amazing things I can do.

And if it takes going on a huge ego trip where I dare the universe to try to take me down a peg – many have tried, all have died (metaphorically speaking) – in order to get me out of this depressive slump, wouldn’t it be worth it?

Even if it makes me a bit of an asshole at first?

More after the break.

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A warehoused life

Obligatory music link :

It struck me recently that basically, I have been in storage for my entire adult life.

Self-storage, of course. Heaven forbid someone else had to invest literally any effort and care into my housing and feeding. No, I tucked myself in a nice little out of the way spot where nobody would have to notice or even think about me ever all by myself.

After all, it’s how I was raised. Try not to exist. Don’t remind people you’re around. Blend in with the furniture. Disappear into the woodwork. Children should be neither seen heard nor even remembered. Work as hard as you can to make us forget your existence entirely. Do you best to not have happened at all.

And I struggle with all that bad programming to this day. I tell myself that I am a real person whose needs and desires are as important as anyone else’s and that I deserve to be here using resources and occupying space.

And sometimes I even believe it.

For a minute or two. Then the old stuff bleeds through.

And then I am back to feeling like I don’t even deserve to be alive again. That my entire existence has been one long mistake, from today all the way back to when I was that one extra tricky sperm that evaded my mother’s tubal ligation and forced me into existence even though nobody wanted me there.

Well it’s not ;like I got any say in it either. If I had known how I would end up, maybe I would have decided to skip it altogether.

For my entire life, I have never fit in anywhere. Least of all my home. I might have felt safe (ish) in my home at 135 Belmont Street, but I never felt welcome. I always felt like nobody knew what to do with me and certainly nobody wanted to take responsibility for me care and upkeep so I was simply ignored.

Worse than that. I was made to feel unwelcome. Like everyone resented my even being alive and wished I had never been born and were certainly never going to give up on quarter inch of their own territory in order to make a share for me.

And here I am today, unable to see to my own needs because I deep down don’t think I am worth the effort, still staying out of the way and doing my best to disappear forever.

I mean, when you feel like you are imposing just by existing, what else can you do?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.