A city of white bread
A city of white bread
There are three people in my life outside of my family who I love and these are the only three outside of my family I have ever loved. They may or may not recognize it, but they are the only three who understand me completely the three that could get me to do anything. One lives in Iowa, I saw her on my road trip for the first time in a year, I write her e-mails wondering how she’s doing and where her mind is we talk maybe once a year. One in Ohio, going through a hell that I’m all too familiar with I talk to him daily. One in Minnesota applying herself to go knows what, we sit down over coffee every few months I talk, she listens retorts and I talk some more. That is not to say that there are not others who I care about a lot of people enough that I'd give my life for them, that'd I drop anything I was doing for them if they needed me, but it's not love, there's only a partial understanding. It's become blatantly clear to me over the years, that communication is not my forte, I have no patience for playing the game of protecting ones self in order to slowly leak out the details of your thoughts through a slow interpretation, I am blunt, I offer myself right away completely I have no past shams to hide, nor do I see any point to the delay which just prolongs the time at which you can form an actual relationship with a person. No; the difference between the people I love and the people I care about is that being in the people I loves presence is enough, I could ask for no more, we might talk for hours or exchange just a sentence or two while being around each other but it's comforting, because there's that understanding. At least that's how i perceive it, love by no means has to be a two way street.
My psychologist told me while I went on about what I was looking for in people and how I felt lonely in Milwaukee, is to imagine myself as a health nut, and that Milwaukee was a town that only offered white bread. I had to take what I needed to get by and then move on. I spoke to the one dimenttionalism of people how I felt that all too often there was just one thing I could do with certain people and that past that we might as well not be friends. that is what separates the third tier from the people I love and the people i care about people I care about and people I love can talk to me about the deep things, talk to me about the nonsensical and do stuff with me to boot either out there, or just appreciating a walk. city like Milwaukee doesn't offer to me that type of person...at least it hasn't for awhile.
It took me a long time to grow into what I am. It took me a long time to discover and become comfortable with it. To learn that enjoying myself didn't mean I needed drugs, to discover that I didn’t need to be accepted by people to learn that when all is said and done, I have the things I value in my possession and I have all along and past that I don't care. it's really a novel concept one that I’ve started to preach when people around me say they're unhappy.
I have a deep seeded fear that the more I read, the more I understand my father. That is to say, I get where he came from, I get almost everything about him just a last few pieces about what he felt was acceptable in a manner of acting other people and that's all i need. I get his appeal to alcohol, there's only so many books, movies, games, and people to keep you occupied, when your friends are busy with other things liquors the easy answer life's too boring if I notice it this early...it frightens me, that one day I'll find the answer in the bottle too.
I finished re-reading the fountain head, I think it has been three years now since I last read it. It's a lot more profound this time, it touched on a lot more bases then I remembered it doing in the past. It was a very good read. It kept me up last night, thinking these very thoughts, just the same as it kept me up tonight, to finish the last 5th of the book, I couldn't sleep because I was laying in bed, thinking and to get rid of the thoughts the only thing I could do was read more, because to give it up, to stop the thinking it wouldn't have been enough.
A cicada, is one of the noisiest insects you will ever hear, they're vocal and hold nothing back, but the only evidence you see of them is a shell of what they truly are. People are the same way, they want to contribute to the noise, be as loud as they can to get your attention, but they are only a shell of what they are. This is the norm, there are always exceptions.
In a society ruled for do long by a select group of people a certain, gender, race creed etc. who ruled without care for other people just their own good, you would think as someone who fits a lot of those traits, I would feel remorse you would think I should feel bad for what they had done. I will never feel bad for the actions of others which I did not affect, especially when I fight to change how it's effected now.
Respect is earned, not granted. Trust is the same way. Vanity is what makes you think that you consume a persons mind and think everything they say is about you. If you don't have my respect, don't have my trust, and you’re vain, You should have never been a part of my life even for the few days you were. you were not worth my time and I'm sorry I spent it with you. However you taught me a lesson and for that, I am thankful.
This will only make sense to a hand full of people. It's written for me, not you.
There are three people in my life outside of my family who I love and these are the only three outside of my family I have ever loved. They may or may not recognize it, but they are the only three who understand me completely the three that could get me to do anything. One lives in Iowa, I saw her on my road trip for the first time in a year, I write her e-mails wondering how she’s doing and where her mind is we talk maybe once a year. One in Ohio, going through a hell that I’m all too familiar with I talk to him daily. One in Minnesota applying herself to go knows what, we sit down over coffee every few months I talk, she listens retorts and I talk some more. That is not to say that there are not others who I care about a lot of people enough that I'd give my life for them, that'd I drop anything I was doing for them if they needed me, but it's not love, there's only a partial understanding. It's become blatantly clear to me over the years, that communication is not my forte, I have no patience for playing the game of protecting ones self in order to slowly leak out the details of your thoughts through a slow interpretation, I am blunt, I offer myself right away completely I have no past shams to hide, nor do I see any point to the delay which just prolongs the time at which you can form an actual relationship with a person. No; the difference between the people I love and the people I care about is that being in the people I loves presence is enough, I could ask for no more, we might talk for hours or exchange just a sentence or two while being around each other but it's comforting, because there's that understanding. At least that's how i perceive it, love by no means has to be a two way street.
My psychologist told me while I went on about what I was looking for in people and how I felt lonely in Milwaukee, is to imagine myself as a health nut, and that Milwaukee was a town that only offered white bread. I had to take what I needed to get by and then move on. I spoke to the one dimenttionalism of people how I felt that all too often there was just one thing I could do with certain people and that past that we might as well not be friends. that is what separates the third tier from the people I love and the people i care about people I care about and people I love can talk to me about the deep things, talk to me about the nonsensical and do stuff with me to boot either out there, or just appreciating a walk. city like Milwaukee doesn't offer to me that type of person...at least it hasn't for awhile.
It took me a long time to grow into what I am. It took me a long time to discover and become comfortable with it. To learn that enjoying myself didn't mean I needed drugs, to discover that I didn’t need to be accepted by people to learn that when all is said and done, I have the things I value in my possession and I have all along and past that I don't care. it's really a novel concept one that I’ve started to preach when people around me say they're unhappy.
I have a deep seeded fear that the more I read, the more I understand my father. That is to say, I get where he came from, I get almost everything about him just a last few pieces about what he felt was acceptable in a manner of acting other people and that's all i need. I get his appeal to alcohol, there's only so many books, movies, games, and people to keep you occupied, when your friends are busy with other things liquors the easy answer life's too boring if I notice it this early...it frightens me, that one day I'll find the answer in the bottle too.
I finished re-reading the fountain head, I think it has been three years now since I last read it. It's a lot more profound this time, it touched on a lot more bases then I remembered it doing in the past. It was a very good read. It kept me up last night, thinking these very thoughts, just the same as it kept me up tonight, to finish the last 5th of the book, I couldn't sleep because I was laying in bed, thinking and to get rid of the thoughts the only thing I could do was read more, because to give it up, to stop the thinking it wouldn't have been enough.
A cicada, is one of the noisiest insects you will ever hear, they're vocal and hold nothing back, but the only evidence you see of them is a shell of what they truly are. People are the same way, they want to contribute to the noise, be as loud as they can to get your attention, but they are only a shell of what they are. This is the norm, there are always exceptions.
In a society ruled for do long by a select group of people a certain, gender, race creed etc. who ruled without care for other people just their own good, you would think as someone who fits a lot of those traits, I would feel remorse you would think I should feel bad for what they had done. I will never feel bad for the actions of others which I did not affect, especially when I fight to change how it's effected now.
Respect is earned, not granted. Trust is the same way. Vanity is what makes you think that you consume a persons mind and think everything they say is about you. If you don't have my respect, don't have my trust, and you’re vain, You should have never been a part of my life even for the few days you were. you were not worth my time and I'm sorry I spent it with you. However you taught me a lesson and for that, I am thankful.
This will only make sense to a hand full of people. It's written for me, not you.