What's funny is...
... I don't really care.
The only appearance of being affected is one I create.
I have a confession to make world, in reality - I do not care.
Truth be told I look like I am a perfectly functioning human,
Right? Wrong.
Deep down I lack come fundamental characteristics to do so.
So I falsify them.
Have been doing so my entire life.
Just though I'd make that clear.
It's such a burden being a liar.
The few moments I can say it was real have come and gone.
It is after they've gone I realize that the rest of the time I am numb.
From time to time genuine intentions to be good, supportive, and true will surface.
As if my function is really just to rise to an occasion in a proactive fashion with no reason.
This is often confused with the fact that I care - wrong again.
I don't do it because it makes me feel good, or makes you feel good, but because
that is where I was at the moment and I answer to the moment.
This is not to be confused with selfishness.
I don't have people around for what they do for me,
They can grow to have significance and our meeting provides growth,
But I accept that they are fleeting and not a possession I own.
By the same token I will do what I must in the name of that moment and any admiration I may have for their actions and being.
My love is not typical. It comes from within and is independent of behaviors.
The few people I surround myself with can tolerate lower levels of deceit as far as my persona goes.
In other words I can show them more of what I am and they stick around.
Capacity for unconditional action.
Sometimes you get so caught up in your own lie you almost believe it.
I got caught up in mine, and I've woken up.
I had convinced myself that I care whether or not this world goes to hell in a handbasket or not.
I had managed to make myself believe that in the path I was choosing was mine.
I had been living a dream that came and went.
The small bursts of emotion and thrill left seem to be fading dreams that I had desired in my reality.
They are what remains after I sit up and ask myself what the hell I am doing. Wondering why I falter.
If I am willing and capable, then why is is I am allowing the weight of such mundane bullshit to burden me?
I am nor righteous leader or voracious monster - I am.
Funny is this will go unread and it's perhaps the most insight into my life I've ever given.
The only appearance of being affected is one I create.
I have a confession to make world, in reality - I do not care.
Truth be told I look like I am a perfectly functioning human,
Right? Wrong.
Deep down I lack come fundamental characteristics to do so.
So I falsify them.
Have been doing so my entire life.
Just though I'd make that clear.
It's such a burden being a liar.
The few moments I can say it was real have come and gone.
It is after they've gone I realize that the rest of the time I am numb.
From time to time genuine intentions to be good, supportive, and true will surface.
As if my function is really just to rise to an occasion in a proactive fashion with no reason.
This is often confused with the fact that I care - wrong again.
I don't do it because it makes me feel good, or makes you feel good, but because
that is where I was at the moment and I answer to the moment.
This is not to be confused with selfishness.
I don't have people around for what they do for me,
They can grow to have significance and our meeting provides growth,
But I accept that they are fleeting and not a possession I own.
By the same token I will do what I must in the name of that moment and any admiration I may have for their actions and being.
My love is not typical. It comes from within and is independent of behaviors.
The few people I surround myself with can tolerate lower levels of deceit as far as my persona goes.
In other words I can show them more of what I am and they stick around.
Capacity for unconditional action.
Sometimes you get so caught up in your own lie you almost believe it.
I got caught up in mine, and I've woken up.
I had convinced myself that I care whether or not this world goes to hell in a handbasket or not.
I had managed to make myself believe that in the path I was choosing was mine.
I had been living a dream that came and went.
The small bursts of emotion and thrill left seem to be fading dreams that I had desired in my reality.
They are what remains after I sit up and ask myself what the hell I am doing. Wondering why I falter.
If I am willing and capable, then why is is I am allowing the weight of such mundane bullshit to burden me?
I am nor righteous leader or voracious monster - I am.
Funny is this will go unread and it's perhaps the most insight into my life I've ever given.