Self-Rebuttal
I am not Adolph Kafka, not in name nor in attitude. Several times over the past few weeks I’ve slept naked on my floor, praying: “you’re punishing me, ok, let’s get to it.” I’ve broken my own soap-box and feel much taller.
I have misunderstood love. When you’re young love is like a boxing day sale — you grab more than you need because it’s cheap, then ignore it because you really didn’t need it. It’s sad sleeping naked on the floor, it’s sadder to be shacked up with your pride snoring inside you, whether loved or alone.
This is in not an apology to any of the girls I offended in my last rant though it should be. It is an apology to god who I have offended by breaking his favorite law: love my creation.
I have a heart of glass. If it shatters one more time it will become sand. As protection I hid behind the mask of a blow hard. I go a little crazy without my heart and say any sort of mad thing like my head were cut off. But I’ve resolved to stop faking being happy or tough when I’m not, and with my little glass heart I’m rarely either. I don’t love trouble, I don’t have the spleen for trouble. I’ll stop pretending I do and instead strive for contentment like it would be reasonable for one of my true gall.
All these years and I’m still not a man, if anything I’m more of a child for accepting the bad habits in myself I have not been able to fix. This may sound like part of the twelve-step plan, but I still have not taken step one. I’ve have unfortunately mastered the confessional. Something bad about a person who becomes very good at apologies, indicates they’re practiced.
It has been a cold quiet winter for me. I’ve talked to myself more than all others combined, and sometimes came to conclusions based on the little world I made for myself in my one room igloo. If I stay another year I’ll have to live with someone to infect them with part of my personality and unburden myself of it.
I’m a dog barking at a shadow at night in an empty yard. All my ideas and dreams are just regurgitated syntax slopped from above. We must rise above ourselves, and I have failed to do so in the things I’ve said on this forum.
While I should ask Gonzo to remove some of my more offensively personal comments over the last month I won’t. Let it be an example of how someone can stab themselves with their own knife. All my efforts to appear hard done by were so heavy handed they justified any conduct one might resort to to be done with me. My anger had nothing to say about love.
Although not a jot less alone than other months, I feel much less lonely. I won’t however blame anyone who tired of my histrionics.