One of the things I have realized about myself recently is that I really like to show off.
Not in a competive, superiority proving, “I’m awesome and you suck!” way. That whole way of thinking is alien to me.
But I really like to shine. I inherently and instinctively perform for people. I am always putting on a show.
So in that sense, I am never truly “myself”. I am always a performance of myself. That performance is not false and it’s not a role I play or a mask I wear.
Well, not entirely, anyhow.
It all flows directly from who I am. And I can’t imagine being any other way. I could never be “just some guy”. I could never blend in. I could never be happy staying in the background. I can’t stand to be ignored.
And yet, if I am wrapped up in a task, I really want to be left the fuck alone.
I’m a complicated guy.
But assuming I am interacting with others, I want to shine, shine, shine. I want people to think I am brilliant and funny and amazing. I want them to think how lucky they are to have had an encounter with me. I want them to leave saying “Wow, what a guy!”.
And if they happen to fall in love with me a little, all the better.
Now I know this sounds like raving egomania, and in some ways it is. Certainly from the point of view of someone a lot more modest than I, it must seem like all of those “wants” add up to a greedy, needy, slightly loony egomania.
And it’s certainly not something that one would normally associate with social anxiety.
Maybe the real problem with my social anxiety is that I put so much pressure on myself, though. i try way too hard and then beat myself up when I don’t meet my outrageously unrealistic ego standards.
That’s what comes out of acting out of extreme need.
Maybe I would be a lot better off if I was content to be “just some guy”. Just another person, just like everyone else. It’s a question I have asked myself many times.
Could I lead an entirely ordinary life? And would that make me happy?
I honestly can’t see how. For better and for worse, I am a strange and extremely entity, and I would have to cut off or violently suppress so much of myself in order to do it that I can’t see how that could possibly do anything but slaughter my soul.
I just have to be weird lil ol me. That’s been a constant in my life. I have been ferociously and uncompromisingly myself for as long as I can remember, and there is no point in wishing I was any other sort of person.
I’m not like them Never have been and never will be.
As with everything else, if I want a version of my life that works, I am going to have to invent it myself.
Sucks to be unique sometimes.
More after the break.
I don’t like Mondays
Obligatory music link :
It’s cute how they made such a big deal about one little school shooting back then,
The reason I don’t like Mondays is that I keep getting so damned sleepy on them.
I have slept so much today, and my body and brain still want more. When I am finished with my blogging, odds are I will go right back to sleep and it’s bumming me out.
Then again, I have felt bummed out in general today anyway. I feel dark and bitter and angry. Like I want to grab the world by the shoulders and give it a shake, and maybe smack it around a little, just to show it who’s boss.
Like seriously. Fuck you, world. Fuck you. Fuck you till you die of it,.
Just back the fuck off
I have nuclear level sarcasm and I am not afraid to use it.
As usual (lately), this dark mood started with yet another failed attempt to masturbate. Once that energy is summoned and built up, failure to release takes a surprisingly large toll on a man’s psyche, and drags his mood into the gutter.
So ladies, if you have ever wondered why your man gets so cranky if you get him riled up then say no, trust me, it’s because he feels terrible, both mentally and physicall.
I know I don’t have to tell that to my fellow fags. They’re men too. They get it.
My one saving grace today is that at least I have been listening to my body when it tells me it wants more sleep instead of trying to fight it out of sheer reflexive stubbornness.
I may not like sleeping the day away, but if my body and brain need it, they can have it.
I really want to start taking my health more seriously.
Maybe even pretend it’s the health of someone I love.
Otherwise, though, it’s been a bummer. I feel very shadowy right now. Like I want to lurk in the shadows of an alleyway and watch the goings on of those who live in the the warmth and the light while feeling nothing but disbelief, envy, and contempt.
How can they be so unaware of the darkness that lurks around them at all times, waiting for an opportunity to ruin their lives forever?
What is the magic that seems to keep them safe?
What do they have that I do not?
Why the hell can’t I be happy like them.
Something is very broken in me, that’s clear. I’m trying so hard to fix it, but it’s hard to fix broken tools with broken tools.
And those are the only tools I got.
Somewhere in the galaxy, a toxic rain falls, with shame, on a reedy plain.
It’s made of my pain.
And I will be here again.
I will talk to you nuice people again tomorrow.