sick and scarred

I’m so bloody tired of this façade. Seems to come easily to you and usually, I let you think it comes easily to me too. But it’s taking a toll on things now. I can’t keep pretending. I can’t keep smiling at you when I want to throw a few things at you. I can’t continue to sit there and make tame conversation with you when I want to ask you a few savage questions. I can’t keep avoiding you when you’re sitting right there in my living room.

A million times I’ve ‘decided’ that I’m going to unleash the avalanche of questions. Screw it if you get annoyed. But, when the time comes, I slide into that ridiculous friendly mode where I crack a few lame jokes, pass a few sarcastic comments and throw in a few punches. And, like always, the evening passes and you leave and I keep wondering how I managed to become such a brilliant idiot. What a talent I have...

It’s just a few questions. You’d probably answer them if I’d ask. I think. It’s just that I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the answers. See, once I know, then all of this will become seriously ridiculous. The awkwardness, the discomfort and the uneasiness will comfortably settle in. Plus, it won’t help with the whole façade issue – because we’ll still be pretending. Except then we’ll be pretending that it’s no issue seeing each other’s faces as often as we do.

It’s not that important is it? Maybe it’s all in my head. Last time I told you – you calmly said you couldn’t help if I didn’t tell you, “You never tell me what you’re thinking. Ever.” That surprised me. I didn’t realize I was doing so well on the none-of-this-is-getting-to-me (denial) front. But apparently I was doing seriously well because you’re one of the most difficult people to fool.

Anyway.

I decide to go with the denial. This isn’t important. There are better things in life to worry about. Like? Like. Have to get the work back on track. It’s all over the place nowadays. Concentration has gone to hell and creativity has gone into hibernation. Patience is at an all time low and I’m going off on everyone way too easily. So yeah, I need to work on that. Need to bring the structure, the focus, the drive and the eagerness back. It’s just gone. I keep thinking that’s because I have no new music. The online radio stuff isn’t good enough. Other than some Breaking Benjamin – there’s nothing in the commercial charts that’s speaking to the mind. And I had to put Benjamin on repeat till it finally started to hit home. Which sucks since it’s supposed to be an instant thing. *shrug*

But then, you tug at some nerve and I pull my shoulders back and dive right in. And I ask you this lame thing that’s not really invasive. And what do you do? You bite back. You don’t give an inch. Infact, you take a few frikkin feet. I sit there fuming. Unbelievable. So wait, let me get this right okay? You can waltz into my life and demand to know what the hell went down in the decade you decided to vanish. When I say it’s all a little difficult to talk about – you go a little nuts and say that’s just not a good enough excuse for me to give to you of all people. I think about that. I figure you’re right and I close my eyes (closing eyes just serves as a confidence booster in such moments ok) and spill it. You listen, you ask piercing questions, you make comments, you voice your opinions and you make that bullshit, “All for the best” speech. So, wait a second will you? I ask you one measly thing that doesn’t require you to divulge much and I get the, “Knowing me as you do, you know I’ll never answer a personal question like that,” response. Wow. You ass. You self-centered, egotistical, selfish piece of fuckwit weed. Had it with your asinine nature and had it even more with your thankyou-very-much-but-I-will-take-and-take-and-never-give approach. Now you can take an extra long and leisurely walk on a very very short road that ends at the edge of a very very high cliff in the middle of NoFrikkingWhere.

Why why why why do I know only mental people? I mean, really, I’m getting tired of this. Even my mother’s getting tired of this. Really. I mean, has your mother ever asked you, “But why do you only come across psychopaths?” I told her I’d have to check in with my genes for that one. I mean, what else could it be? Unless…there’s a sign on my forehead that says, “Approach me only if you have psychopathic tendencies”? I don’t know. Maybe it’s there and visible to everyone but me. Who knows.

But I’m sick of this crap. Sick of the façade as I said. Sick of the weirdness. Sick of walking about on tip toes. Sick of lines that apparently cannot be crossed. Sick of ‘comfort zones’ and lack thereof. Sick of being walled out or too walled in. Sick of being sick of things. Also, it doesn’t help that every other week I have new injuries. Fresh new ones today. Nasty as hell. Looks like I was out hiking in some Royal Jungle of Thorns. Honest. I’ve been stared at, gawked at and lectured at. *sigh* I am scarred I tell you. In more ways than one.

29/04/08; 2:24pm