my checkered past and you
if i were a good guy, i wouldn't be blogging. nice people don't have to analyze themselves through their writings. i'm just doing some house cleaning before i decide whether to renew my subscription to society or not. i still keep a bunch of regrets here, a fashionable thing to do back in the day, when vulnerability wouldn't put you a stone-throw away from people throwing rocks at glass houses. look: no one said writing was easy and similes are like... fucking... something... i don't know... i don't know, okay! you got me, i often speak with colorectal depth, pulling things out of my ass and then trying to justify them. come with a premise, then make it make sense. i have been a parasite of a boyfriend, a crappy son, a lousy friend, an enemy to myself. i am selfish and lazy and i like to keep my responsibilities and contributions to the world at room temperature. i don't like the way things are and i don't like the way i've been. to myself. also to others, but mostly to myself. i fuck around so that i can find out. a failed pedagogic model that has yielded results despite of itself. i often incur in errors and faults, but I rarely make any mistakes. my malice overrides my ignorance, which makes me a very dangerous kind of idiot. however, as much as i want to flail myself publicly for your amusement and for my atonement, i have to forgive myself so that i can move on. you will [n o t] give me any grace. you will not stop until i draw blood from my back. and then some more. and then some more. because we made our own machine that was meant to work as a guillotine that speaks sharp truth to blunt power, but now we found out that it has a similar mechanism to power itself. and you want power. you don't want to destroy it, you covet it [l I k e t h e s h i t t y i m p s t h a t y o u a r e]. you can deconstruct my emotional life as an educational series on how to stop being awful and abusive. my exes can deconstruct me a new asshole. my personal life, my intimate life and current lack of, the horrible exchanges, the sour breakups, my horrible choices are there, and i'm sorry. not to you, though. i am sorry to the people whose life i made worse (long-term, short-term). i walk the line between [b e i n g] sorry and [f e e l i n g] sorry. one is more shallow than the other. my only contrition was to get out of their way and trying to be less shitty every year. self-serving, yet honest. but i don't want to leave salted and scorched earth and burning bridges and trailers of skeletons behind me. so here's my vow to do my best, when circumstances allow it, to leave people better than when i met them. if i fail to do that, i will get out of their lives as quickly as possible without taking anything with me. i know my empathy is limited, my ego is huge and fragile, my relationship with my family is the one of a very spoiled twentysomething neurodivergent kid and his mom, i am too old to live like this. and yet i think i might find someone for me. stupid, i know.