I don't want anybody else
When I think about me
I hate myself
[Tune of Blondie...]
What a wonderfully vicious cycle it is.
***
That was then. Today is different (subtlely). I don't know whether I love or hate the decisions I make and then live with. I don't know whether I love or hate who I am. What happened last time? I drank enough to have no memory of events until the morning after. I danced and made merry and didn't do anything wrong, in that sense. In my own eyes though, I did everything wrong. My hangover is psychological too; my heads churns as much as my stomach.
What happened this time? The same old thing. I got caught with a girl. By my girlfriend. Wait-- I say with a girl, I don't mean with her you know, it is not like we were in the same building or anything. Just, chat. Words, play, suggestion.
I don't know if I can change. I mean, I know I could, but I don't know if I want to. I love the game. My mother knows it, hell she encourages it. Always suggesting, get out there, pick and mix. As strange as it sounds, she speaks the promiscuous voice in my head.
Why do I love the fucken game so? Why has the appreciation of another -- a non-partner, an interest -- always felt like it matters more, and makes happier than that of the only one I am supposed to be in love with?
I am a manipulator, too. Is that what all this has been about? All this flatness; a lack of joie de vivre. That I perpetuate my unhappiness in order to maintain distance from loved ones (including myself) so that I feel less judged by them. Why should I feel judged? Because I ignore their wishes, make bad decisions and embrace a nihilistic world.
Embrace another. Dammit man stand yourself up and embrace another world. The one where you make things with your hands that you can stand back from and say proudly "this is mine". Say proudly too this mistake is mine, do not shy away from those things but neither dwell on them.
To self loathe is not to be destructive as much as to just not manage to create.
Well, get out there, and create.
