Might be done posting these blog updates on Facebook. I feel it's the equivalent of pulling out my junk in public. It is true that one man's trash is another man's treasure, however I'd rather they come looking for it. The archaeologists.
If I had absolute proof of what the future holds, and there was no way I could change it, I'd probably kill myself. Part of what keeps me around is that I'm not skipping any pages. When I begin to think about the future, I mostly get depressed. True, I'm hopeful at times, in that I may actually accomplish a life goal here and there, although it ends right there. Ignorance is bliss. If I'm truly set up to fail, I sure as hell don't want to know about it! It's quite easier to take if it hits me out of nowhere, rather than having to dwell on those thoughts indefinitely.
The thoughts I have lately are dangerous and addictive. They are the car wreck you can't stop looking at. You hope you don't see blood and dismemberment, yet you make every attempt to find it. There it is! Just as you anticipated. The driver is completely crushed and still alive. He won't make it, and there he is motionless, waiting to die. So then what? Now feel helpless and hopeless. For the rest of the day, and perhaps for the next few weeks, you'll have that image in your head, dwelling on the concept of mortality.
So what was his purpose? To be born into this world, go to school, then work for a short period of time until that fateful night? I'm sure he touched people along the way during his life's journey, so it's not all a complete loss. He may have been a jerk too, and the world may be better off without him. Heck, he's the one who wasn't wearing a safety belt. He's the one who drove while intoxicated. It was those poor judgement skills that ceased his existence.
I'm here alone most of the time with no one to influence me except my own consciousness. By design, I'm isolated from all possible assistance. It's become part of the routine that I can't shake. My bad habit. My addiction to seclusion.
I very much long for a deep conversation. Not just an inner monologue. My body yearns to connect. Instead of actively seeking this out, I'm still wearing my mask and pretending I'm all set. My control issues don't allow my emotional requirements to become fulfilled. It's a defense mechanism that was created long ago and upgraded throughout the years from being exploited by others. It manifests itself through cynicism, humor, dismissal, lite-hearted words, ignorance, anxiety, and real palpable fear. As potentially dangerous they are, I'm walking on stilts just to oversee the world below. Besides, some people find me talented and amusing!
They can see it, I bet. Everyone. Everyone has problems of their own and no one's seeking you out, ready to make you feel better. Well...maybe guys, since they're genetically programmed to fix everything. (Which, understandably, drives women nuts...) This is why most of the time I've resorted to turning on the furnace and letting the hot air blow straight into my blog.
As a man, admitting these things goes against my nature. Stupidly, throughout the years I wondered why women kept a distance from me when I poured my heart out to them. Fucking duh! They saw me as another woman in need! And straight girls don't go after gay girls like myself!
I've been told the ratio on average is 1 woman to every 4 men commit suicide. It must have something to do with the belief structure that's been created within our society. Better yet, the ignorance of the masses! Men CAN ask for help, but then the guy who does NOT ask for help gets the girl! Of course there are exceptions, though generally our world operates in this fashion. An asshole will still get dates, and even find idiots to care for them. It's all a game. The challenge is to get the ice to melt. And then what? Game over! Search for another frozen corpse to thaw out!
Copy, paste, delete, repeat.
Yet somehow men are supposed to continue to have all the answers? It's a fucking test, and if you leave the questions blank you still get them wrong! Perhaps I should stop generalizing, since I'm only really speaking from my own experience, and perhaps I'm basing this on a theory that most guys indeed have similar issues in life.
The bottom line is that I want a physical display of empathy, and not have any fear, or any reason to fear, that opening up does more harm than good.
No comments:
Post a Comment