So tear me open, but beware…
I hate inefficient people. Insults to zillions of years of evolution. People too fat to run themselves to safety when it matters, people wearing shoes they can’t sprint in, people worrying about their looks and smearing ghosts of dead animals all over their face instead of making sure they’re mentally and physically fit. They’re inefficient, and they have less of a life than fully functional people. And most of all, I hate little kids, 10 year olds, being a drag, nuisance, and promising to become anything but functional, healthy adults. Nagging, crying, showing no signs of mental stability and "take it like a man" mentality, glasses, fucking bedwetting, it just makes me sick.
And you know Why? Because they remind me of myself. Of my past, of my weaknesses today, and the fear of what I might become in the future. And most of all my past. Little, horrible little snots whining in the bus, wanting candy, and everything to go their way, remind me of myself when I was little, in a way that makes me absolutely Sick of myself. It makes me want to vomit, puke out that little rotten core of shit son I was/am right onto the street, and keep a purified version of the strong young adult I always would have liked to be.
I was a terrible child. Not in the way of doing stuff wrong, but in the way of being a nuisance. ADHD, lazy right eye, and several dysfunctions too embarrassing to mention, in short a dissappointment of a son. Hyper-active little whiney snot that you couldn’t trust to behave in any way or at any time. Whenever someone brings up pictures, video’s or stories from that time, I wave it away. I Do Not want to be reminded. That’s not me, that’s some other little pest. I’m different. I don’t cry, I don’t whine, I have good eyes and I’m relatively calm. I don’t need fucking medication for my brain anymore. No monthly visit to the doctors, no fucking new shrink 3 times a year because last one didn’t have a clue. I was born with a mohawk, 20 years old, medic, roadie, and I can outrun any of you and I know all there is to know about stages. NOT that picture, never was.
But why? Why why why? Why are you so obsessed with functionality? Did your mother die giving you the message of being a lousy son? Was stress her indirect cause of death? Did your father blame you for it, saying "You’re making your mother sick, the way you’re acting"? Did he start drinking so much his kidneys turned to stone? Does your stepmother hate you for the kind of person you are? Does shit happen because you’re not mentally strong enough to handle them? Are there things you can’t lift? Are you imperfect?
I hate fat people. They can’t run to safety if a bus is about to hit them. And the number of overweight people didn’t triple the last 25 years because of their glands, because they can’t help it. High-heeled shoes will kill you and you will cry. Cry because you wanted to look good and it’ll cost you your life now.
So yeah, I got fucking issues, like You and Everybody Else do. I just know what they are and where they come from, so I can write them down once again in an attempt to rid myself of them. Oh but I’m still normal. I’ll just make a remark about your shoes when you get stuck between cobbleones again.
I stopped blaming myself for it all when I was about 16. One shrink knew what to say and when to say it. He asked me to just, give it a shot, tell yourself it’s not your fault. I don’t "hate" anyone, either. I just wonder every day if she can see me, see what I’ve become, and if she would love me for it. I’m not sure I’d want it, facing judgement if I am a good person. I try, and I guess that works just fine.
I’ve been in similar situations. Things like "here I am, am I good enough?" So far they haven’t worked out one bit, because of different reasons. I’ll just keep telling myself it wasn’t my fault.
Situations change, and I change with them. And today, I’m changing again. I had to re-invent myself throughout my life several times, and I’ve become quite good at being someone other than who I am when I’m alone. People call it masks, but I disagree. It’s still me, with the same problems, philosophies and likes and dislikes, just a different face. No mask to hide anything.
But this is no face change. This is different, I don’t know how to put it. I smile more, I look people in the eyes, you could almost say I take life less seriously. I used to be more of a cynic, sociophobe almost. Yes, Even More. Of course, I had bad sides, too. I hope I don’t lose all of me, I kinda like some parts.
The party is a good example. Me organising a party 6 months ago would be utterly ridiculous. But I did it now, and we actually had Fun! We joked, we laughed, shared music and (I So needed that) let it all out on the dancefloor.
We’ll see which way it goes. If you think you’re happy, you’re happy.
It has been discretely pointed out to me that I forgot to formally thank people. Although this isn’t usually the place where I put outgoing messages, I suppose it’s appropriate. I am so incredibly grateful to all those who supported me and made the party what it was. People who helped me play so I could worry about other things for a minute, friends who came over, people who brought their own music, and, of course, the part-time stripper girl from america and others for the MP3’s and suggestions. I’m sorry I didn’t get to play many of the requests, but it was all just such a chaos with so many songs and so little time. So all of you, thanks a bunch. You know who you are. You amazed me.