My life is a facade. (Pretend there is a fancy c there.) Anyway, it is. I have figured this out recently. For a bunch of reasons – by a bunch of reasons, I mean by exactly two.
REASON 1
I dread social interaction. I also love it. What’s that you say? “That doesn’t make any sense?” Interesting..
That is exactly what I thought!
I have attempted to make sense of this misleading statement. After strenuous hours, I have determined that it is the initial contact. The awkward, “Ahhhh, I know you from UNIDENTIFIED LOCATION from UNIDENTIFIED TIME IN LIFE.” The stress and sweating to determine whether or not my sliver of knowledge about one or two things in the sea of concepts available to me is sufficient to uphold an uncomfortable conversation. The fear of being ridiculed for a misstated thought or an accurately conveyed thought that was misconstrued by the other party.
THERE ARE LITERALLY SO MANY THINGS THAT CAN GO WRONG. SO MANY UNCONTROLLABLE ASPECTS OF THE SITUATION. SO MANY POSSIBLE SCENARIOS. I MEAN, WORST CASE SCENARIO, WE ALL SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST. THAT’S FREAKING SCARY.
But then I also have realized that after that vomit-worthy interlude between silence and easily sustainable and pleasant conversation, lies an easily sustainable and pleasant conversation – who woulda’ thought.
Problem is, by that point, I have already taken a dip in the stagnant bog called discomfort, and have probably already thought multiple thoughts depicting my distaste for the other party’s being.. existence.. etc. So, any enjoyment felt from the wondrous acquired novelties of the other’s mind seems awfully synthetic and forced, despite how genuinely I enjoy their company.
So, I hate others until they say things I like, and then I revel in their glorious mind, but feel guilty for having hated them. Each moment is uniquely and horribly fake. Hooray.
REASON 2
I expect nothing out of people until they disappoint me. Which ultimately makes no sense, logically. But, in retrospect and after much thought, I believe it means that I don’t care about people until they hurt me, after which, I lose trust for said person. In every part of this situation, I feel distaste for people in general whether it be through lack of expectations or in disappointment from some over-dramatized fault.
I will ultimately be hurt by everyone, and this is all my fault. Yet I blame other people. YET I AM AWARE THAT I BLAME OTHERS. Awful, right? You’re telling me.
In summation, I am being dramatic because I am sad. Don’t listen to me. Better yet, ignore all my other posts.
Signed,
A whiney and misunderstood cliche (imagine there is an accent on the e)
Just a Little Bit of Everything 