Because Of The Things We Say And Do.

Not everyone is aware who they are. An odd statement, granted, but stick around and I’ll attempt to explain. Some people think that they are kind and gentle, but laugh when old people fall over. Some people believe in their own selflessness, but really just want to look good. Some people think they are dieting but eat chips and Mars bars and crisps. Diet Coke isn’t dieting. So, you see, not everyone is aware who they are. What people may think of you, may tell you about yourself, may write about you on bits of paper they tie to rocks and throw at your head, is not who you are, though I’m sure not everyone agrees. What you are is what you say and do and the reasons behind both. It’s arguably best not to delve too deep into your you because, well it’s often worrying, and you’re unlikely to change that much anyway, so why upset yourself. Unfortunately for me, I am writing a routine around me, relationships, love and happiness, so quite a bit of soul searching is required. I’m yet to find it.
I happen to be fairly comfortable with me, which as I’ve mentioned before is useful due to spending large amounts of time in my company. But even I have had to admit a few things I might rather not, face up to the odd unpleasant truth, and try to work out why, oh why, I’ve done some of the things I have. And why I’ll probably do them again. As someone who operates under an umbrella of potentially off putting honesty where other people are concerned, I have had to try to be equally truthful with myself, and it’s not always great fun. It is however immensely rewarding.
A large part of it seems to be acceptance, of yourself, of how you’re perceived and of what that can mean. You can’t go round giving people your actual opinion and not expect some sort of fallout for example, actions have repercussions, and you paint your own existence in that respect. At this point in the writing process, I would find it incredibly useful if everyone who knows me would sit down and, quite bluntly, tell me who they think I am, but not everyone is happy delivering such bad news. On top of this I also need to be honest about other people involved in me, my version of reality true, but warts and all, and given that I’ve pissed myself off revealing my own deficiencies, it seems fairly likely that there will be other casualties. Firstly, this is a concern because I cannot afford to ostracise any more companions with my nonsense, there aren’t that many left and it would be foolish to do anything that would distance those remaining. Secondly, one of the main purposes of the routine is to address where I, and many others, go wrong with the ladies. I’m pretty close to nailing this, and I think it’s because of things we say and do. Thirdly, awkward innit, when you’re publicly using someone else to examine your inner space, for laughs.
Of course names can be changed and details altered/embellished/completely fabricated for comic effect, but someone’s gonna know that was about them, that story about the time you confessed, at the point of intercourse, that you weren’t into them and how you laughed about it hours later with a friend. They’re gonna know. You can send out finished drafts for approval and vetting, but fuck that, they might be offended by an especially hilarious bit that definitely isn’t coming out, and what then? Well? What then?! You’ve nothing have you. So it’s a case of bracing oneself and just doing it I’m afraid, and trust me when I say that large segments are just as unbearable for me. Don’t for a second think that I will enjoy describing what a hopeless twat I can be. If some bits don’t get a giggle, comic failure will be compounded by the confirmation of the suspicion that my love life is just quite depressing. Think of it as therapy, as a cleansing experience. Or swallow the anger down, deep down – deeper – that’s it – until it’s an unbearably dense pocket of bitter, deforming your very future through its incurable malevolence. Lovely.

Don’t think of this as a warning, because that suggests that alerting you offers the opportunity of avoidance. And, nope. So don’t think of it as that. Think of it as information, yes, a Public Information Message, think of it as one of them. And console yourselves in the fact that one of the realisations about myself is that I’m prone to starting things, getting to a certain point, thinking “yeah I could probably do that”, and then, kinda, losing interest and not. Then concern yourself with the knowledge that the entire point of constructing this thing is to shake off some off the behaviour it uncovers. It’ll be funny though, hopefully, so people will be laughing at your semi fictional anguish, and by extension, any future emotional issues this will cause you. And they do say laughter’s the best medicine.

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