when in time
he doesn't know where to start; he has no idea where his life went awry. not to say it's miserable or a complete failure, but it's damn close. he supposes it all started when he was younger. when everything was given to him, no questions asked, on a silver fucking platter. he never asked anyone for anything, but they still "helped out" or "did it out of love" or some other form of bullshittery, regardless of any situation. he truly wishes they hadn't.
skip ahead; when he's moved out of the house and has been living on his own, quite shittily, for about eight years. unable to keep a job worth a shit for longer than half a year. only the really bad ones he keep. likely, it's because they don't expect much out of him; it's someplace he can excell. with an exempliarily weak resume, and a job hopping likihood of dale earnhart into turn four, trying to right the sinking ship is damn neigh impossible.
when, at a job, he does it well and doesn't get comp for his efforts, he seems to care less and less what happens. comp for his efforts meaning, say the store or office or whatever needs improving to make a better environment, a more pleasant one, he tends to right things so they fall into place, making it easier on everyone. nine times out of ten, the fruits of his effort are ignored and taken as "well, we/you should've been doing it that way in the first place."
much is the same with relationships. not to the exact extremity, but similar. he tends to try to make the other laugh or smile or whathaveyou, dilligently and without doubt, only to be disappointed in the end. no, disappointed is too strong a word; jaded is the right concoction. after time and time again of trying and trying, chasing his tail, and doing everything he can, expecting nothing but a simple smile or thankyou in return, it sends him into a spiral. much like everything else. he doesn't require acceptance, but he does like to have insurance. he'll take a blind leap into nothing, expecting nothing, as long as he has an escape route planned ahead.
but, ten of ten times, he simply does what he always does: expects far too much out of something he knows is doomed to begin with. making something complex out of something redundant. hoping for more than what's actually there. then, in time, he realizes it was entirely his fault blank thing went the way it did. it doesn't relieve him, doesn't give him confidence or closure, but simply makes him close the doors further and back himself into a corner ready to lash out to the first person, for whom he cares, to give a hand. he does it out of reflex; instinct. it's likely impossible to change the fight or flight ways.
people tell him he shouldn't let these things bother him; that there's someone out there for him. he says bullshit. she isn't going to jump into his arms if he just wishes it hard enough. and, likely, who would want to be around such a monumental fuck up? why would anyone want to befriend this bastard? why would anyone give this shit the time of day? because he isn't completely lost; because he's just misguided and has to find himself before he can proceed. they're around him because he will always tell the truth, no matter how hard it hurts; they're his friends because he never gives them a reason to doubt him; they give him the time of day because he has so much potential, so much love to give.
he just wants the confusion to stop; for something, anything, to fall into place for once. no fighting, no yelling, no doubt, no fear, no lies, no suprises. able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. able to expect the ends to justify the means. but he knows life isn't this fair, and never will it be.
this is my story. i want to be able to give someone my love. if for a second, if forever, whichever. i want to smile. i'm out.
skip ahead; when he's moved out of the house and has been living on his own, quite shittily, for about eight years. unable to keep a job worth a shit for longer than half a year. only the really bad ones he keep. likely, it's because they don't expect much out of him; it's someplace he can excell. with an exempliarily weak resume, and a job hopping likihood of dale earnhart into turn four, trying to right the sinking ship is damn neigh impossible.
when, at a job, he does it well and doesn't get comp for his efforts, he seems to care less and less what happens. comp for his efforts meaning, say the store or office or whatever needs improving to make a better environment, a more pleasant one, he tends to right things so they fall into place, making it easier on everyone. nine times out of ten, the fruits of his effort are ignored and taken as "well, we/you should've been doing it that way in the first place."
much is the same with relationships. not to the exact extremity, but similar. he tends to try to make the other laugh or smile or whathaveyou, dilligently and without doubt, only to be disappointed in the end. no, disappointed is too strong a word; jaded is the right concoction. after time and time again of trying and trying, chasing his tail, and doing everything he can, expecting nothing but a simple smile or thankyou in return, it sends him into a spiral. much like everything else. he doesn't require acceptance, but he does like to have insurance. he'll take a blind leap into nothing, expecting nothing, as long as he has an escape route planned ahead.
but, ten of ten times, he simply does what he always does: expects far too much out of something he knows is doomed to begin with. making something complex out of something redundant. hoping for more than what's actually there. then, in time, he realizes it was entirely his fault blank thing went the way it did. it doesn't relieve him, doesn't give him confidence or closure, but simply makes him close the doors further and back himself into a corner ready to lash out to the first person, for whom he cares, to give a hand. he does it out of reflex; instinct. it's likely impossible to change the fight or flight ways.
people tell him he shouldn't let these things bother him; that there's someone out there for him. he says bullshit. she isn't going to jump into his arms if he just wishes it hard enough. and, likely, who would want to be around such a monumental fuck up? why would anyone want to befriend this bastard? why would anyone give this shit the time of day? because he isn't completely lost; because he's just misguided and has to find himself before he can proceed. they're around him because he will always tell the truth, no matter how hard it hurts; they're his friends because he never gives them a reason to doubt him; they give him the time of day because he has so much potential, so much love to give.
he just wants the confusion to stop; for something, anything, to fall into place for once. no fighting, no yelling, no doubt, no fear, no lies, no suprises. able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. able to expect the ends to justify the means. but he knows life isn't this fair, and never will it be.
this is my story. i want to be able to give someone my love. if for a second, if forever, whichever. i want to smile. i'm out.