What we as humans end up DOING isn’t always what we “should” do. In fact the more I observe human beings in their elements, well…Look real deep. What I see is selfish, ego-driven maniacs.
Not all of you. Just the majority of humans. The thing that disturbs me most is that people pretend to be kind souls. Which means, those people are not who they appear to be, in reality- in pure truth, these people are monsters.
Morals and Ethics has nothing to do with virtue. I read that in a book, and I contend it’s true. You see polar opposites in society- people who believe in certain morals and ethics, and the rest of the people who believe in morals and ethics that refute the former peoples morals and ethics.
You see, virtue is virtue. It’s like pure truth. 1 + 1 = 2. It’s pure truth. Time is also pure truth, as it is a math equation, seemingly infinite as far as we know, because we cannot transcend time itself, not in this life anyway.
I hold the door for a person because it’s virtuous. It’s selfless, yes- but it’s more than that. I’m literally doing something to be, well- of virtue. Because it’s the right thing to do. I don’t need a thank you, although validation is always a positive thing. I hold the door because, to me at least- it’s an act of fellowship with my fellow human beings. Maybe they don’t care, and that’s fine. But maybe holding the door was the right thing because it was a moment of grace for someone who needs it? That, maybe they don’t kill themselves or others because virtue still exists.
Not to say I think I’m some Don Quixote knight. I’m not.
I fuck things up because, well- I get angry. I get angry because I don’t find anyone who accepts and allows me to be mentally handicapped. Forty percent of my right frontal lobe is scar tissue from a brain injury. I also have a mood disorder, what kind the doctor never told me (thanks, John).
And I do go deep, in conversation. I’m precise and accurate because I watch how the world turns. I believe this scares most people, because they misinterpret my thoughts and ideas for action. The last time I acted up my psychotic ideations was 2011. I’m on anti-psychotic medicine, a pretty heavy dose, too. And I take anti-depressants, which don’t seem to help that much. While I am thirty four years old, my maturity level will never be greater than that of a young child. That’s just how it is- some of you who’ve blocked me saw this, liked it, and still blocked me when I was having a meltdown. I thought some of you had my back, but you only want sunshine and rainbows, is what I see now.
The point I’m fucking making is, have I ever? No, I have not. Anything you read, and you blocked me or unfollowed me, is just in your head. I put it there, because it was in my head, and I shared it with the world. So what? Did you come to find I ACTED upon those thoughts? Pure truth, I did not. So, why? You run away? You isolate me further. Talk shit to others about me, behind my back. You know who you are, and you’re just making it all worse- for me you and them. In the end, it was YOU who made me a monster in your head.
I’m actually a human being, just like you. Maybe not like you personally, characteristics, traits, nuances- but we are the same in that we are both having this human being experience while here on planet earth. So the truth is, I’m a storyteller these days. That’s my thing. Sometimes, I don’t specify what I say as being fictional. Because I’m not all together myself at times. I lose my mind. And other thoughts fill up my head. Great notes and fodder for villainous characters, without a doubt. But I always come back home to me. And I realize these thoughts are just passing thoughts. Fodder for fiction.
Yet, people really do believe I’m a threat. A threat to whom, exactly? I barely leave my house- how in the literal fuck am I a threat? I do NOT own firearms. I have a couple blades, because I enjoy looking at blades. I keep them in my nightstand dresser. They sit there, unless I grab one…Hold it…Then I put it back in the drawer. And that’s where the two of them stay.
I love my dogs, although sometimes they’re a handful to deal with. Doesn’t matter, though. They really do love me unconditionally. So I’ve got that going for me. I’ve got a ride to use for the time being, and a house to live in, for the time being. I have cell service but I’ll be damned if I use it more than a few minutes each day. I mainly write, stare at Twitter, play Mortal Kombat Mobile, watch The Simpsons or whatever else, lay in my bed, read. I grill sometimes, I make food with hot water sometimes. I sometimes drink beer. Sometimes I smoke weed. I smoke tobacco, trying to switch over to vaping but it’s not quite the same effect. All things in time. It will pay off.
When it does, I hope you haters hate even more. Talk more shit about me, behind my back. That what cowards do. Lots of women and even men! Who’d of thunk it. I fear ye not, cowards. All you do is talk shit, make snarky comments, and act like hi brow individuals. You’re also hipsters. You’re not timeless, and I think that’s what upsets you the most. But that’s not on me, that’s on you. And who you are, rather- whom you are not. That’s neither of our faults, but I see those of you who want to blame others. It’s their fault, not your’s- right?
I will continue to be accountable to my craft of storytelling. To pour my soul into my fiction, essays, and memoirs/journal entries.
This one was a long one. Hope you all who aren’t shitbirds got some takeaways that can aid you in your lives.