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There's always been a part of me that totally wanted to fit in, to be accepted, to be one of many, a cog in the machine. Several years ago I felt like I had found this niche. And I reveled in it. I made friends, mostly online, and started venturing out in the real world with these people.
But I was dissatisfied. The people I met were desperate, pathetic losers with no idea who they were. I didn't want to be that, be like them. My spirit was and is stronger. I was destined for greater.
My dissatisfaction comes from deep within. I'm such a snob. God, it's annoying. How bad does it have to be when you annoy yourself?
And yet, here on these insomniac nights, I find myself looking for these people, their art, their culture - and honestly a small part of me wants to join in. Be part of it. It's all very charming. On the surface. I found something rather sinister and ultimately childish about it. Sure, it would be fun. Maybe. But do I have to become like them to join? Do I forego any sense of maturity, copability, relinquishment, or even sanity?
I suppose that's true of getting too deep into any culture. It would be easy to sell out, vomit up the intestinal fortitude it takes to stand against the wind and not be like all the others.
I WANT to fit in. But I'm too much of a cynic. I take things far more seriously, even though I behave like a first grader. I hate people who are like me.
You're happy? Go get hit by a bus.
You're stubborn? I guarantee I can outlast you.
You're vain? I.... don't care what I look like when I set foot outside my front door. Well, to a certain extent I do, but there are such things as decency and a little self-respect is healthy.
You tried to insult me? First your opinion would even have to matter to me.
You're a hypocrite? Go fuck yourself.
Am I cutting my nose off in spite of my face? Perhaps. I guess it's time - once again - to remind myself that the path I choose to walk carries with it consequences, just as any decision does.
So why do I still yearn for something I know isn't mine, and is still so close but still so far away? Is that simply human nature? Is that simply MY nature? Am I, after all, only human?
I refuse to accept that. Don't lump me in with the petty, squabbling, and mewling masses that beg and vie for some semblance or what's right now, what's trendy. I aspire to more. They do not. Empathy is a great gift and burden. Scanning people is like shining a light in the darkness - with nothing there to reflect the light, you still can't see anything. It's still so amazing to me how seductive the dark can be.
But I still want more. I want so much more. I once asked a friend if that made me vain. She said it made me visionary. I don't really know if that's true or not, but I cling to the slippery possibility that she was right.
But I was dissatisfied. The people I met were desperate, pathetic losers with no idea who they were. I didn't want to be that, be like them. My spirit was and is stronger. I was destined for greater.
My dissatisfaction comes from deep within. I'm such a snob. God, it's annoying. How bad does it have to be when you annoy yourself?
And yet, here on these insomniac nights, I find myself looking for these people, their art, their culture - and honestly a small part of me wants to join in. Be part of it. It's all very charming. On the surface. I found something rather sinister and ultimately childish about it. Sure, it would be fun. Maybe. But do I have to become like them to join? Do I forego any sense of maturity, copability, relinquishment, or even sanity?
I suppose that's true of getting too deep into any culture. It would be easy to sell out, vomit up the intestinal fortitude it takes to stand against the wind and not be like all the others.
I WANT to fit in. But I'm too much of a cynic. I take things far more seriously, even though I behave like a first grader. I hate people who are like me.
You're happy? Go get hit by a bus.
You're stubborn? I guarantee I can outlast you.
You're vain? I.... don't care what I look like when I set foot outside my front door. Well, to a certain extent I do, but there are such things as decency and a little self-respect is healthy.
You tried to insult me? First your opinion would even have to matter to me.
You're a hypocrite? Go fuck yourself.
Am I cutting my nose off in spite of my face? Perhaps. I guess it's time - once again - to remind myself that the path I choose to walk carries with it consequences, just as any decision does.
So why do I still yearn for something I know isn't mine, and is still so close but still so far away? Is that simply human nature? Is that simply MY nature? Am I, after all, only human?
I refuse to accept that. Don't lump me in with the petty, squabbling, and mewling masses that beg and vie for some semblance or what's right now, what's trendy. I aspire to more. They do not. Empathy is a great gift and burden. Scanning people is like shining a light in the darkness - with nothing there to reflect the light, you still can't see anything. It's still so amazing to me how seductive the dark can be.
But I still want more. I want so much more. I once asked a friend if that made me vain. She said it made me visionary. I don't really know if that's true or not, but I cling to the slippery possibility that she was right.