I had to vent and I didn't mean to throw this at you. I have never met an unselfish man before, so excuse my glee at our meeting. I was taken aback at the fact that you give so much of yourself to the world and ask for so little in return. I am also glad that you are asking me to vent to you. I haven't done so in some time and I didn't want to burden you. I know it's good for the soul to let out what ails you, but like you, I wasn't selfish enough to confide in another living soul what really irks me sometimes. It's not a long vent and I won't take up too much time. I suffer from amphibology, and it comes through mostly in my writing, but that's remedied once I start.
I'm a little amazed at the fact that there are still selfish people who give ten percent of themselves and have the audacity to expect one hundred percent of others. I'm not perfect. I suffer from coal black syndrome. As I stand in this mirror I notice I'm thick thighed, cha cha feet stomping, tar eyed and angry like my beige mother; and a ninja witted, manipulative piece of shit in a bluish hue resembling my absent father. My nose remembers the smells of freer plains and my mouth all but puckers with the head nod only the sound my classic boom box can make.
But sadly the German blood in me wants me to roast the mother fucker who continually insists that I'm not enough. Or that I may be naive to world processes of someone having a preference. I am not everyone's cup of tea but to lie and say I'm yours just to coddle me into a false sense of your insecurity amazes even me. What also bothers me about how people, actually one person in particular, who constantly speak about their self worth, don't really have any. I get tired of hearing of how they're better than me when they don't value themselves. What twisted mirror are they looking in? I want one dammit! I need to see out of this mythical shit! How do you tell someone you're better than mediocre, when you live deep in mediocrity. You shun the contrite then you are guilty of being that way yourself, stating artistic license. You can't be serious!
Living like fucking pigs? Procreating like non-neutered pups? And that is life? It can't be! I refuse to accept that evil spreads so eloquently, so evenly like red beans over rice in winter time. The realization that my anger stems from the fact I was left like a bride at the altar. The moment I shed a moment of vulnerability, exposing my bloody heart, it was pierced and that tear hasn't healed properly. I don't think I recognize love anymore. I can't see it bursting from the trees or hear it in a song. I guess since I can't envision sweet love, I attract those with the inability to recognize love when they see it as well.
That was easier than I thought. I get nothing but love and compassion from your Tumblr and your tweets. I thank you for letting me whine like a bitch for the cameras. The fact that others can't see what really goes on in the life of an unselfish soul is sad and disturbing. Maybe people need to be hugged more, or at least slapped into some kind of sense. For real. Love heals those that can be loved or some gibberish like that. I hope I made sense. Thanks for being you.
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