A nervous rant.

I say this all the time. I’m not one for appology. I’m not one for smiling and speaking when my heart and brain are not in agreement.

I just don’t get it. I waste enough breath.

When I watch TV instead of writing

sending txt messages when I could call.

And I get it. I really do. No one can be cold and cynical all the time.

Even I struggle with it at times, but I do think that for the most part I am true to my word.

If I fuck with you I fuck with you, no matter what. And if I don’t I don’t.

I know at times that can hinder me. I’ve seen how the “real world” is all about keeping up apperances.

Some days I know I can’t fake it. My face won’t let me. My soul won’t let me.

It sucks. I can’t. I wish I could.

I don’t know.

I can handle people not liking me. I dislike a good 35% of the people I know. I tolerate 40%.

If you don’t like me fine, but don’t pretend.

Because If I drop dead tomorrow I wouldn’t want you to waste tears on me.

Save them for someone you love.

I can promise you I won’t.

I’ll say a prayer for your family and pray you rest in peace, but I will not pretend that when you were breathing that I cared for face that you showed the world.

Thats wrong.

I know.

We can’t always be rightous.

I think its more of a respect thing.

Yet other people see it as snooty or pretentious.

Its not.

I just value myslef more than pretending to like you.

And thats not even to say that I can’t co-exist in the same space with someone I despise.

I just don’t know.

So, Im gonna write until I feel like people are not pretending.

Fuck!

I hate feeling like this.

I hate feeling like being yourself is the worst thing in the world.

I love people who are themselves “without permission”.

And I would say that its about haters, but I don’t believe in them.

Haters are something that people with low self-esteem created to deal with their own feelings of inadequacy.

I can’t take.

Somedays I feel the weight of my own self doubt beating down on me.

I own that though. Its mine.

The world didn’t give it to me.

It can’t take it away.

I realize that it doesn’t work like that for everyone .

Still I own it.

Maybe this is what is about owning who you are?

even if you can’t identify all the parts and get them to function.

Knowing that they are yours.

To mold, shape , and discard.

habits and people.

so … yeah

pay this no mind.

Just me trying not to be angry.

and owning the parts of me that keep me sane.

and the parts that beg for mending.