Rant Trilogy: Part I

Dude, STFU Plx0rz--Part One: Rumors, Labels and Categorization.

"I'm like a struggling doctor, no patience."--Mike Shinoda

You know how it goes. Someone spread some suss and the girl who's the star of the gossip ends up writing a note about how people view her...or sorry, the guy...and everyone comes online and apologizes for assuming she's a complete pross or something(in the male's case, a pussy). This shit pisses me off. No, not the gossip. Well, the gossip too...but it's the sensitivity and assumptions that really eat at me. Maybe that's my problem, but let's consider the possibility that for once the person who's alone in their belief might be right in thinking something. Just imagine for a second that you are not absorbed in the ideas of society and you are open to what I have to say.

SHUT THE FUCK UP! I'm not trying to insult you and I am not pushing your pain aside. I'm just that little voice inside of your head who knows that any friend of yours is not going to believe some bullshit rumors about your promiscuity or imputency . As much as the other guys may laugh, how many of them care if you really bowed that girl from the party? How many of them will judge the girl because she's a slut? See them, all of those asswipes, IGNORE THEM. They don't care about you, they don't know about you and they certainly don't want to. You are defined by your opinions of yourself. By the decisions that you make, not what some dumbass who lacks enough intellect to consider that not all girls want to fuck his ugly-ass friends may think.

Your image is a lie. People hate you and you don't know it, people talk about you and you don't know them. And you know what? NO ONE CARES! You don't really care if you know who you are. Only those people who are unsure of themselves place a high regard on other peoples' demented opinions. Someone is always gonna be talking about you behind your back like you're nothing but some broken down second-rate hypocrit. Bla-bla-bla-bla-blabla. They don't matter if they really think this shit. And because they don't matter, what they think doesn't matter, which means the rumors don't matter. So you don't care. Your real friends are the ones who'll warn you of the rumors even though they know you'll say "So? Let them suck whatever they think I am."

And you rumor-passing hypocrit fucks, what kind of insecurities are you hiding if you need to pass things round like you know it's true? What kind of bitch does that? If you didn't see it yourself, giving these people the benefit of the doubt is the fair choice. Because whoever told you could just be a lying, hypocritical bastard like yourself.

But back to the matter of those who pay too much attention to opinions...I'm not gonna sit here and lie to you.

"I don't care what people say about me."

I've had days when I vented about how I supposedly fucked some dumbass I don't even know. As a matter of fact, I seem to be thte ex-something of everyone at St. George's College. These silly little boys think I don't know what they're saying about me. What they don't know is it's a matter of I DON'T CARE. You wanna tell my brother that you fingered me when he wasn't there? He's not going to believe you because he knows who I am. Anyone who hears you and really knows me (not what I appear to be in the eyes of some overly-hormonal baby boy) knows that I am not what you say. So just shut up, because no one's listening.

You spew more shit that a broke-down toilet at a ghetto McDonald's.

It's not that I don't care that my friends are hurting because of what people are saying. It's that I don't care about what the people are saying. See the difference? The addition to the first part of the equation? I care about my friends. And because I care about my friends, I know not to believe the bull. My friends feel the same about me. The problem here is that not enough feel that way about themselves.

And do not get me started on the matter of labelling people to suit your idea of life. Yes, people tend to repeat the pattern someone set before them and yes, everyone pretty much the same in terms of the human psyche. That's all fine and dandy, but it's not enough to give someone a single label. The human mind is far too complicated. So stop it. Just stop. Assholes.

"You can say what you want about me, keep talking while I'm walking away. Bitches."

[As written by me: Monday, June 16, 2008]

I was with you

That day when you cried because you thought your father was dying, that was me holding your hand.
And I was with you when you growled with jealousy because your mother didn't see you in the presence of your brother.
I was with with you when you dragged a blade across your flesh to distract yourself from your mother's screaming.
When you watched your brother shake and sweat before being carried in an ambulance with an oxygen mask, I was with you. I was there.
I remember the night you thought you would never wake up and the morning after when there was a great depression as you realised you had. I was there, I was with you.
I know how safe you felt in the mental ward of the hospital and some days you dream about living in that world...alone.
I am not God sending you a message from the skies. I am not some spirit of a passed relative. I am you, that bit of you who knows it will get better and I am with you always. The part of you that understands your detestation of human nature, but knows that life without company is empty.
That day that you curled up like a fetus in a womb, crying that he took it all and still doesn't love as much as you love him...I was there. I was in pain too, that day, but I was there.I was there when you thought you'd never be with the one you love again because your parents just don't get it. I thought you looked like a teenage movie character, but I knew you were hurting.
I was there when they took that house away. I knew how you felt because I felt it too.
I was there when that addiction to pain flared up because you didn't have good company. You had no one, really. When you were gone from public for a month because you couldn't stand being around people, I was there.
I am always with you, because you're stronger than you think. You're a pretty smart person and you know that you're getting better. But for a smart girl, you're pretty stupid sometimes. This shit doesn't happen overnight and you can't cure depression with Paxil. So stop whining and do what you have to. I'll be here.

[Posted By me on Facebook June 16, 2008; 11:11 pm]