(no subject)
It's getting there.
In reality he was a mystery, and that’s exactly how he wanted to be. He kept a journal, filled it randomly. The pages were full of thoughts, but thoughts that could only make sense to him. He altered names giving no one and no thing a distinct name to keep them unrecognizable to anyone else. The penmanship was sloppy, but the grammar never poor. Quite simply, it was intended that no one else would understand. They were his thoughts, his experiences, his dreams, his life, no one else’s. So why let them in, why share his head? He didn’t see the point.
You could call him paranoid if you really wanted to. It’s not that far fetched. I choose to call him “him”, or any other male pronoun. Perhaps he could have a new name every time he was mentioned. But then you would get confused now wouldn’t you? You could say that would make it hard for you to follow? Hard for you to keep up if his name kept changing, if it wasn’t distinct. Wouldn’t you say?
But you could call him paranoid if you really wanted to. But why would you want to a thing like that? Why would you label him? Does he have to have a label? Is your world so obsessed with people and things being something distinct that you have to label this person that you know nothing about? That’s where society is taking us isn’t it, into this world of categories? Everyone has to fit into a distinct little box. Everyone has to be something specific. Boy, girl. Straight, gay. Old, young. Skinny, fat. Paranoid, sane. Black, white. Smart, dumb. Rich, poor. And the list continues, but who fucking cares? Call him paranoid if you really want to. Because maybe he is. But how would you know? You don’t know him. You may have read the paragraphs; you may have understood the words. But you don’t know him. Do you know how old he is? Does it matter? “Age is just a number!” He’d mock you.
Don’t be offended. He just hates society, and what it has done to people. He doesn’t necessarily hate you personally. Our culture is pathetic in his eyes. Not the religious aspects, and cultural traditions, that’s not what he hates. He hates how selfish and uneven everything is. People strive so hard to better their own situations that they don’t care who they step on along the way. People are so money crazed they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get their hands on some. People are so miserable that they’ll drag you down just so they can stand on you to raise themselves a little higher. People are ass holes. And so he removes himself from society as much as possible, but at times it’s not so simple. It’s hard to remove yourself from a situation when people are constantly grabbing at your coat sleeves and pulling you back in.
He had friends in society, he knew people. It weird to refer to people you’ve seen and spoken to as “knowing” them. There have most likely been times in your life when someone has asked you “Hey, do you know …” Only “…” is someone’s name. And you’ve replied “Oh yeah! I know …” Again, “…” is a name. But do you really know them? Do you know how their mind works, and how they feel? Do you know what they think about on a day-to-day basses and how their moods change? How can you say you know them simply because you can picture their face, or you’ve met them before? Meeting someone, and knowing someone are completely different things.
So he had friends in society. A couple of close ones. A couple that thought they were close ones. But mostly just people he had met.
He used the friend word cautiously. He didn’t like it. What he considered a friend is far above what most of his “friends” consider to be a friend. It takes a lot more than just hanging out with someone to be friends. True friends, they rarely exist. The word “friends” is thrown around so much the days it hardly has meaning anymore. Just like those three little words. Probably the most commonly used, but rarely meant words in the English language. And he was sure the translations were the same for their language. “I” “love” “you”. One. Two. Three. Three simple little words. But people throw those around all the time like they’re nothing. They slide of people’s tongues. They fall from their lips. More often than not, they mean absolutely nothing. No. That’s not true. More often than not they mean “I want you to do this for me…” or some other for of that sentence.
People say them to get what they want. Be it a girl, or a boy, money, material possessions, anything. People say them with an agenda attached to them. Only most people hearing the words are too blind to see it. Even though they have most likely attached their own little agenda to the words at one point or another. But they don’t care. Someone said they loved them. And of course the person meant it. Why the fuck wouldn’t they? The person hearing it was worthy of love right? People are so naive. He never said the words. He never meant them. Except perhaps to his pets. He loved them. But a human being? Rarely.
He wasn’t cold. He wasn’t black hearted. He wasn’t an ass hole incapable of love. He just knew it didn’t come easy, and he knew he wouldn’t be like everyone else and throw around these words if he didn’t know what they meant. He wished other people would do the same. Maybe if people stopped using them improperly they would get their meaning back. But he knew that was a long shot. He knew people couldn’t help but attach their little agendas. People couldn’t help being selfish, and doing or saying whatever they had to in order to get what they wanted. That’s just how people were. He blamed society.
In reality he was a mystery, and that’s exactly how he wanted to be. He kept a journal, filled it randomly. The pages were full of thoughts, but thoughts that could only make sense to him. He altered names giving no one and no thing a distinct name to keep them unrecognizable to anyone else. The penmanship was sloppy, but the grammar never poor. Quite simply, it was intended that no one else would understand. They were his thoughts, his experiences, his dreams, his life, no one else’s. So why let them in, why share his head? He didn’t see the point.
You could call him paranoid if you really wanted to. It’s not that far fetched. I choose to call him “him”, or any other male pronoun. Perhaps he could have a new name every time he was mentioned. But then you would get confused now wouldn’t you? You could say that would make it hard for you to follow? Hard for you to keep up if his name kept changing, if it wasn’t distinct. Wouldn’t you say?
But you could call him paranoid if you really wanted to. But why would you want to a thing like that? Why would you label him? Does he have to have a label? Is your world so obsessed with people and things being something distinct that you have to label this person that you know nothing about? That’s where society is taking us isn’t it, into this world of categories? Everyone has to fit into a distinct little box. Everyone has to be something specific. Boy, girl. Straight, gay. Old, young. Skinny, fat. Paranoid, sane. Black, white. Smart, dumb. Rich, poor. And the list continues, but who fucking cares? Call him paranoid if you really want to. Because maybe he is. But how would you know? You don’t know him. You may have read the paragraphs; you may have understood the words. But you don’t know him. Do you know how old he is? Does it matter? “Age is just a number!” He’d mock you.
Don’t be offended. He just hates society, and what it has done to people. He doesn’t necessarily hate you personally. Our culture is pathetic in his eyes. Not the religious aspects, and cultural traditions, that’s not what he hates. He hates how selfish and uneven everything is. People strive so hard to better their own situations that they don’t care who they step on along the way. People are so money crazed they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get their hands on some. People are so miserable that they’ll drag you down just so they can stand on you to raise themselves a little higher. People are ass holes. And so he removes himself from society as much as possible, but at times it’s not so simple. It’s hard to remove yourself from a situation when people are constantly grabbing at your coat sleeves and pulling you back in.
He had friends in society, he knew people. It weird to refer to people you’ve seen and spoken to as “knowing” them. There have most likely been times in your life when someone has asked you “Hey, do you know …” Only “…” is someone’s name. And you’ve replied “Oh yeah! I know …” Again, “…” is a name. But do you really know them? Do you know how their mind works, and how they feel? Do you know what they think about on a day-to-day basses and how their moods change? How can you say you know them simply because you can picture their face, or you’ve met them before? Meeting someone, and knowing someone are completely different things.
So he had friends in society. A couple of close ones. A couple that thought they were close ones. But mostly just people he had met.
He used the friend word cautiously. He didn’t like it. What he considered a friend is far above what most of his “friends” consider to be a friend. It takes a lot more than just hanging out with someone to be friends. True friends, they rarely exist. The word “friends” is thrown around so much the days it hardly has meaning anymore. Just like those three little words. Probably the most commonly used, but rarely meant words in the English language. And he was sure the translations were the same for their language. “I” “love” “you”. One. Two. Three. Three simple little words. But people throw those around all the time like they’re nothing. They slide of people’s tongues. They fall from their lips. More often than not, they mean absolutely nothing. No. That’s not true. More often than not they mean “I want you to do this for me…” or some other for of that sentence.
People say them to get what they want. Be it a girl, or a boy, money, material possessions, anything. People say them with an agenda attached to them. Only most people hearing the words are too blind to see it. Even though they have most likely attached their own little agenda to the words at one point or another. But they don’t care. Someone said they loved them. And of course the person meant it. Why the fuck wouldn’t they? The person hearing it was worthy of love right? People are so naive. He never said the words. He never meant them. Except perhaps to his pets. He loved them. But a human being? Rarely.
He wasn’t cold. He wasn’t black hearted. He wasn’t an ass hole incapable of love. He just knew it didn’t come easy, and he knew he wouldn’t be like everyone else and throw around these words if he didn’t know what they meant. He wished other people would do the same. Maybe if people stopped using them improperly they would get their meaning back. But he knew that was a long shot. He knew people couldn’t help but attach their little agendas. People couldn’t help being selfish, and doing or saying whatever they had to in order to get what they wanted. That’s just how people were. He blamed society.