Television has proved that people will look at anything other than eachother.
People are shady.
It's lately been difficult to maintain a consistently joyous disposition, when you're constantly surrounded by the shitass vibes from every pathology-soaked grunge sponge. People are a constant influx of shadyness, bashing their slithering bodies against everything like the sperm that's ejaculated from every white trash baby-daddy with a slender moustache and a drunken leer. I'm tired of engaging with these shallow fag machines with their predictable ulterior motives. These days, it only seems to take a mere wrench in my blissful mood to suddenly jar me back into a morose, embittered imbecile. That pretty much proves to me that the substituted elation was just that - a weak substitute, for an otherwise disengaged and disgusted person to distract her from the idiosyncracies of her mind.
It's pretty amusing what the fervert desire to be a freespirited nymph will drive you to fake and manufactor in order to convince yourself that you are truly that person; the one who is impervious to life's soft decay.
There's really no sense in pretending, is there? People have a tendency to project a happy-go-lucky exterior in hopes that it will bolster their spirits and bring more positive wealth into their lives, figuring that good karma will eventually prevail. I grudgingly admit that I'm guilty of this naivete as well. The truth is, an earnest disposition will bring nothing but friends you don't even want, and those won't even last too long because the truth always comes out: either they're too much of a mentally unstable psychopath to carry normal relationships, or you're just an asshole who can't curl your tongue and eventually has to dispense some type of verbal lashing because you're so fed up with dealing with their (un)predictable and seriously deranged crap.
Do you have any idea how many acquaintainces I've carried the past seven months that I seriously wanted nothing to do with, but figured by keeping my enemies closer I would weed out the problem of dealing with the more disgusting aspects of humanity, and could focus more on other aspects of my life?
That ain't happenin', baby. It takes several fuck-ups and failured experiments to realize that bad things happen not to just bad people, but to all people.
Being so pleasant to people rarely pays off. Not involving yourself with drug addicts also doesn't pay off for your sanity, because people pity themselves even without drugs. Come folks, gather 'round and listen to the insipid maunderings of every backward-ass fuck on the planet who has the intelligence and social grace of a taco. In the end, those very same people will end up betraying you in some way or another, taking advantage of your sincerity, or just generally being annoying faggots.
It's like having a pile of expensive and fragile belongings piled up on a desk, only to watch some dumbass animal knock it all over, crashing to the floor as you watch in disgust.
Nowadays, the reaction from the misfortune of humans falls onto a blissful merger between schadenfreude and sympathy. Think of it as the sense of endearment you harbor while watching a sadistic villian bond with their fluffy pet.
There is a metaphorical wall between all of us. Getting through to eachother is an impossible, daunting task, florid with misunderstandings and other comic hysteria. Nobody wishes to meet you halfway, they just prefer to turn around, run in the opposite direction, while spray-painting grafitti that mocks you along the highway bridge they're darting under.
It gets to the point where we naturally just assume that nobody gives a fuck about whatever occurs in our daily life, unless it directly applies to the other person. People ask questions about your life, only so they can talk about their lives. Their ersatz engagement in your life becomes so tiresome, that we avoid discussing actual sentimental issues and bowdlerize our words, wrapping each syllable with a serpentine tongue. Yes, I'm fine. Of course, everything is going phenomenally. No, there is not an ache in my throat.
"LOL".
Y'know, normally when I hear someone say "people suck!" or talk about how asocial and avoidant they are, I tend to roll my eyes and either dismiss them as whiny adolescent mentalities in gothic subcultures OR as loser hermits who have no interest in experiencing the world. It seriously repulses me when people refuse to step out of the box because it's easier to stagnate at home on the internet jerking off to freebase tranny porn and 'partying' at bars, pretending their 'irrestible machismo' isn't really some retarded front to bolster their sad and weak egos. But then last month, I found myself silently agreeing with one of these sentiments. My id began to nod empathetically when people would discuss their reclusive-ness of others, considering it was easier to completely transfer the responsibility onto them instead of myself.
Another day went by. Hmm, I might be starting to see this point, for the first time since being a sophmore in high school wearing spiked bracelets.
The so-called humor and logic of my friends and enemies alike completely evades me. And here I thought I was just a dry, uncreative pillock. No, it was definately them being worthless dingleberries with carbon fluid concepts of what they're supposed to like, which is no wonder why I always felt misplaced and detached from all the things I'm supposed to enjoy. The eiffel tower. Going to the beach with friends. Clubbing. Bland 'comedies' ala Mallrats. Busting a move with Tyra Banks. Movies that only featured a badass leading character armed with some unpronouncable weapon with wooden characters that the critics for some reason call "poignant" and "groundbreaking" when I feel absolutely nothing but bored distaste for them. Ad nauseam.
Leave it to me to pull a maudlin rambling out of my ass, just because I feel like it.
Things are only appreciated with a temporary attention span and a large degree of kitsch.
But as the Chinese proverb says, better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.
Maybe this shit will change. Give me a chance to sort this shit out, alright?
We'll see.
It's lately been difficult to maintain a consistently joyous disposition, when you're constantly surrounded by the shitass vibes from every pathology-soaked grunge sponge. People are a constant influx of shadyness, bashing their slithering bodies against everything like the sperm that's ejaculated from every white trash baby-daddy with a slender moustache and a drunken leer. I'm tired of engaging with these shallow fag machines with their predictable ulterior motives. These days, it only seems to take a mere wrench in my blissful mood to suddenly jar me back into a morose, embittered imbecile. That pretty much proves to me that the substituted elation was just that - a weak substitute, for an otherwise disengaged and disgusted person to distract her from the idiosyncracies of her mind.
It's pretty amusing what the fervert desire to be a freespirited nymph will drive you to fake and manufactor in order to convince yourself that you are truly that person; the one who is impervious to life's soft decay.
There's really no sense in pretending, is there? People have a tendency to project a happy-go-lucky exterior in hopes that it will bolster their spirits and bring more positive wealth into their lives, figuring that good karma will eventually prevail. I grudgingly admit that I'm guilty of this naivete as well. The truth is, an earnest disposition will bring nothing but friends you don't even want, and those won't even last too long because the truth always comes out: either they're too much of a mentally unstable psychopath to carry normal relationships, or you're just an asshole who can't curl your tongue and eventually has to dispense some type of verbal lashing because you're so fed up with dealing with their (un)predictable and seriously deranged crap.
Do you have any idea how many acquaintainces I've carried the past seven months that I seriously wanted nothing to do with, but figured by keeping my enemies closer I would weed out the problem of dealing with the more disgusting aspects of humanity, and could focus more on other aspects of my life?
That ain't happenin', baby. It takes several fuck-ups and failured experiments to realize that bad things happen not to just bad people, but to all people.
Being so pleasant to people rarely pays off. Not involving yourself with drug addicts also doesn't pay off for your sanity, because people pity themselves even without drugs. Come folks, gather 'round and listen to the insipid maunderings of every backward-ass fuck on the planet who has the intelligence and social grace of a taco. In the end, those very same people will end up betraying you in some way or another, taking advantage of your sincerity, or just generally being annoying faggots.
It's like having a pile of expensive and fragile belongings piled up on a desk, only to watch some dumbass animal knock it all over, crashing to the floor as you watch in disgust.
Nowadays, the reaction from the misfortune of humans falls onto a blissful merger between schadenfreude and sympathy. Think of it as the sense of endearment you harbor while watching a sadistic villian bond with their fluffy pet.
There is a metaphorical wall between all of us. Getting through to eachother is an impossible, daunting task, florid with misunderstandings and other comic hysteria. Nobody wishes to meet you halfway, they just prefer to turn around, run in the opposite direction, while spray-painting grafitti that mocks you along the highway bridge they're darting under.
It gets to the point where we naturally just assume that nobody gives a fuck about whatever occurs in our daily life, unless it directly applies to the other person. People ask questions about your life, only so they can talk about their lives. Their ersatz engagement in your life becomes so tiresome, that we avoid discussing actual sentimental issues and bowdlerize our words, wrapping each syllable with a serpentine tongue. Yes, I'm fine. Of course, everything is going phenomenally. No, there is not an ache in my throat.
"LOL".
Y'know, normally when I hear someone say "people suck!" or talk about how asocial and avoidant they are, I tend to roll my eyes and either dismiss them as whiny adolescent mentalities in gothic subcultures OR as loser hermits who have no interest in experiencing the world. It seriously repulses me when people refuse to step out of the box because it's easier to stagnate at home on the internet jerking off to freebase tranny porn and 'partying' at bars, pretending their 'irrestible machismo' isn't really some retarded front to bolster their sad and weak egos. But then last month, I found myself silently agreeing with one of these sentiments. My id began to nod empathetically when people would discuss their reclusive-ness of others, considering it was easier to completely transfer the responsibility onto them instead of myself.
Another day went by. Hmm, I might be starting to see this point, for the first time since being a sophmore in high school wearing spiked bracelets.
The so-called humor and logic of my friends and enemies alike completely evades me. And here I thought I was just a dry, uncreative pillock. No, it was definately them being worthless dingleberries with carbon fluid concepts of what they're supposed to like, which is no wonder why I always felt misplaced and detached from all the things I'm supposed to enjoy. The eiffel tower. Going to the beach with friends. Clubbing. Bland 'comedies' ala Mallrats. Busting a move with Tyra Banks. Movies that only featured a badass leading character armed with some unpronouncable weapon with wooden characters that the critics for some reason call "poignant" and "groundbreaking" when I feel absolutely nothing but bored distaste for them. Ad nauseam.
Leave it to me to pull a maudlin rambling out of my ass, just because I feel like it.
Things are only appreciated with a temporary attention span and a large degree of kitsch.
But as the Chinese proverb says, better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.
Maybe this shit will change. Give me a chance to sort this shit out, alright?
We'll see.