Dishonesty
The crazy thing is, and the end of the day, I cause more pain then happiness. When all is said and done, when the chips are finally going to be counted, what exactly am I going to really have? What kind of person am I really?
How many mistakes have I made? I can't even begin to guess. Every time I open my mouth, it seems like a mistake. A mistake to get up, a mistake to lay down. And these are just the little ones. These aren't the big mistakes. Sam told me, before I even met her, that she is a person that causes changes in people's lives. I'm still trying to figure out what change that is, because I was making mistakes before she got here, and I'm still making them.
Not only am I making these god-awful mistakes, I'm compounding it. It's gaining interest, and eventually the bank is going to call. Normally, when I get credit bills in the mail, I just toss them away. Disregard them. The karma on my soul is tipping dangerously in the wrong direction. Something bad is going to happen. Something very, very bad. I don't know what it is. I probably won't know until it gets here, but there's something.
All the mistakes that I've made, all the decisions that I've made. I used to think I was a nice person. I used to think that I was someone that helped people. I realize now, after all this, that I'm nothing of the sort. I'm a person that takes and takes, and gives nothing real in return. I'm not sure how it happened. I'm not sure when it began. Oh, I could take a guess. I could take a good guess, but that's not the point. The point is, I'm not who I want to be. After all this reflection, after sitting and looking at the handfull of pills and wondering if I should just take them and go to sleep, I realize that I'm causing more harm than good.
I light up a cigarette, because I feel the need.. and I realize that decision has only caused harm. And that's the easy one.
If I met myself... if I were someone else and I looked at myself, I wonder what I'd think. Well, let's just run this down, shall we?
I'm a dishonest prick. I like to think that I'm open and nice, but nice doesn't mean honest. My father hated dishonesty. I can't even imagine what he'd think of me right now.
I keep making the same mistakes over and over. No matter how many times they seem to happen, the same situations keep coming up, and the same mistakes are made. Oh, I say I learn, but it really doesn't seem like I do.
I treat others as if they were beneath me. I easily anger at slights that aren't really even directed at me. I'm passive aggressive. And that might be the worst trait of all.
As I look over these things inside myself, I realize that I'm no different then when I was loathing myself for being a gullible, emotional worm. I wanted to grow a backbone, to get stronger, and I did, but in the wrong way. I became stronger in keeping myself hidden. Keeping everything seperated. Playing this incessent game that only I am really playing. Why do I do this? Does it make me happy? Maybe, in the short time, it does. But you know, like I said earlier, when the final tally is counted up, I am going to owe. Big.
My soul is so thin, so shallow, that I'm not sure there's any depth to it anymore. Sam can see right through me. It doesn't anger me that she can, but she's been so fucking right about everything... so open and honest, outfront and upfront with me. Why should she have to put up with anything less, especially from someone she says she loves? She shouldn't. She shouldn't have to put up with me, but she does. I'm a prick for letting it get this far.
I'm a fucking liar, I'm a fucking prick, and I'm a fucking detestable human being. I used to really revel in the idea of being the black sheep of the family. I used to like being the hedonist, but I'm not the right kind of person for that. The mirror has been held up in front of me, and I don't like what I see. I reach for the mirror to shatter it on the ground, only to find my hand passes right through it because I've not stepped up to make the changes that would let me clutch that reflective piece of polished glass. There aren't many people that can just say a few sentences and make me sit down and really think, examine, and decide for myself what I want.
But I did decide what I want. I've been left alone to my own devices for so long, helped along on this path by people that I've taken advantage of, taken what I needed from, and then left behind. What does that get me? It gets me an empty bed. It gets me an empty home. I don't want this. I don't want the endgame to be so damning that there is no redemption. Maybe my parents were right all along when they spoke of honor, decency, and honesty.
Honesty. That's what this boils down to. That's what I'm not. I have so many secrets, so many hidden truths that I'm not sure what the truth really -is-. I've covered myself up with so many cliches, so many blankets of comfort and hedonism, that I've forgotten what the sun looks like. I'm drowning in my own creations, my own lies, my own devices. The only light I can see comes from somewhere beside me, somewhere I'm not sure where. It's just enough light to see into that mirror, see the things around me, creeping in, whispering to me what the final score will be, and what will truly be remembered. Sometimes, you just can't cover up that light. Sometimes, you don't want to.
Sometimes, you have to feel pain to see the truth.
How many mistakes have I made? I can't even begin to guess. Every time I open my mouth, it seems like a mistake. A mistake to get up, a mistake to lay down. And these are just the little ones. These aren't the big mistakes. Sam told me, before I even met her, that she is a person that causes changes in people's lives. I'm still trying to figure out what change that is, because I was making mistakes before she got here, and I'm still making them.
Not only am I making these god-awful mistakes, I'm compounding it. It's gaining interest, and eventually the bank is going to call. Normally, when I get credit bills in the mail, I just toss them away. Disregard them. The karma on my soul is tipping dangerously in the wrong direction. Something bad is going to happen. Something very, very bad. I don't know what it is. I probably won't know until it gets here, but there's something.
All the mistakes that I've made, all the decisions that I've made. I used to think I was a nice person. I used to think that I was someone that helped people. I realize now, after all this, that I'm nothing of the sort. I'm a person that takes and takes, and gives nothing real in return. I'm not sure how it happened. I'm not sure when it began. Oh, I could take a guess. I could take a good guess, but that's not the point. The point is, I'm not who I want to be. After all this reflection, after sitting and looking at the handfull of pills and wondering if I should just take them and go to sleep, I realize that I'm causing more harm than good.
I light up a cigarette, because I feel the need.. and I realize that decision has only caused harm. And that's the easy one.
If I met myself... if I were someone else and I looked at myself, I wonder what I'd think. Well, let's just run this down, shall we?
I'm a dishonest prick. I like to think that I'm open and nice, but nice doesn't mean honest. My father hated dishonesty. I can't even imagine what he'd think of me right now.
I keep making the same mistakes over and over. No matter how many times they seem to happen, the same situations keep coming up, and the same mistakes are made. Oh, I say I learn, but it really doesn't seem like I do.
I treat others as if they were beneath me. I easily anger at slights that aren't really even directed at me. I'm passive aggressive. And that might be the worst trait of all.
As I look over these things inside myself, I realize that I'm no different then when I was loathing myself for being a gullible, emotional worm. I wanted to grow a backbone, to get stronger, and I did, but in the wrong way. I became stronger in keeping myself hidden. Keeping everything seperated. Playing this incessent game that only I am really playing. Why do I do this? Does it make me happy? Maybe, in the short time, it does. But you know, like I said earlier, when the final tally is counted up, I am going to owe. Big.
My soul is so thin, so shallow, that I'm not sure there's any depth to it anymore. Sam can see right through me. It doesn't anger me that she can, but she's been so fucking right about everything... so open and honest, outfront and upfront with me. Why should she have to put up with anything less, especially from someone she says she loves? She shouldn't. She shouldn't have to put up with me, but she does. I'm a prick for letting it get this far.
I'm a fucking liar, I'm a fucking prick, and I'm a fucking detestable human being. I used to really revel in the idea of being the black sheep of the family. I used to like being the hedonist, but I'm not the right kind of person for that. The mirror has been held up in front of me, and I don't like what I see. I reach for the mirror to shatter it on the ground, only to find my hand passes right through it because I've not stepped up to make the changes that would let me clutch that reflective piece of polished glass. There aren't many people that can just say a few sentences and make me sit down and really think, examine, and decide for myself what I want.
But I did decide what I want. I've been left alone to my own devices for so long, helped along on this path by people that I've taken advantage of, taken what I needed from, and then left behind. What does that get me? It gets me an empty bed. It gets me an empty home. I don't want this. I don't want the endgame to be so damning that there is no redemption. Maybe my parents were right all along when they spoke of honor, decency, and honesty.
Honesty. That's what this boils down to. That's what I'm not. I have so many secrets, so many hidden truths that I'm not sure what the truth really -is-. I've covered myself up with so many cliches, so many blankets of comfort and hedonism, that I've forgotten what the sun looks like. I'm drowning in my own creations, my own lies, my own devices. The only light I can see comes from somewhere beside me, somewhere I'm not sure where. It's just enough light to see into that mirror, see the things around me, creeping in, whispering to me what the final score will be, and what will truly be remembered. Sometimes, you just can't cover up that light. Sometimes, you don't want to.
Sometimes, you have to feel pain to see the truth.