Like a Bolt of Lightning

You know, I think that I let to much of myself slip by when I give my opinions.  I think when I explain things I don’t explain them to anyone but myself really, or perhaps I’m too impatient or incompetent to fully get out all the pieces of my ideas so that people can understand my philosophy.  I know generally halfway through my explanations I generally feel awkward and bossy and all-knowing and foolish and I cut down my words so that everything probably ends in confusion.

I’m soooo tired of talk.  I don’t really know how this all of a sudden came upon me….but right now all I want to do is lay down with someone and know that they know everything is wonderful…that I trust them, that I love them, that I think they’re beautiful, that I respect them, and to not feel that every day I’m going to have to keep proving the same things again and again and again.  This possibility I find very unlikely, I think I’ve been finding more of it lately which is wonderful.

And really, this entry isn’t about anyone in particular, or, everyone should ask before they assume because I don’t want confusion or assumptions.  I’m leaving the name out because it’s not important.  What’s important is the ideas, and ironically these are the things I’m poor at explaining.  I still have latched around me the fear of being deemed pompous and having people seek my downfall in any and every way possible.  It’s happened before and continues.  I hate people attempting to prove me wrong for the sake of showing me up…I wish people would require less proof of me, repetitive and constant, I wish they trusted my words, but I also know that my words are sometimes muddled and not clear.  I wish I could explain it all but I don’t think it’s possible for me yet.  In a way, I am seeking the trust from someone so that I can give them that same whole trust, the trust to tell them absolutely everything inside of me.

I dont’ do that as much with the people I care about as the not.  Mostly because those I don’t care about I don’t respect enough to care if they care or judge.  They can do whatever they please.  The people I care about I’m too afraid of boring or frightening or hurting or insulting or anything…..

Where is all this going?  I find myself rambling constantly.  I find myself also thinking in elaborate metaphors and antiquated language and not saying things the way I want to say them because they sound funny coming from a 23 year old guy in 2006.  Anyway, the actual place I was going had something to do with Anonymous.

Anonymous, like a bolt of lightning it has come to me, hates too much.  There is, as I see her, a huge vast swirling storm of hatred below the surface that boils out of the eyes and runs along the mouth and bends her body into the postures of it.  It is a hatred born of some high borne like idea of privilege and self importance, a hatred born of being better than others — smarter and more talented and more attractive and more capable — and that hatred spills out onto everything less deserving and yet still somehow successful.  It is a silent killer, she doesn’t even know it holds such sway over her and had I really looked I would have seen it, or had I really thought about it….but before….before now, I didn’t.  And I don’t know why.

But there is hatred there that I think must be squashed.  I know I of all people shouldn’t be discussing hatred since many would judge me as a hateful person, but I find myself not nearly as hate filled as others think.  Mostly because I vent it in rants and yelling and the people I hate I focus it upon.  I KNOW I’m hateful at times.  But she doesn’t.  And part of the trauma that she faces constantly in her life, part of the emotions that are running through her veins, part of the black tar that is poisoning a piece of her and making her ache in that mistaken way where one thinks a piece of them is empty when in fact it is full of a nothingness that actually has a palpable existence, that part is her goodness in conflict with her rage.

Do not hate so much.  Take a breath, breathe it out.  Envision Coffey from The Green Mile spewing out the little black insects of hatred and evil and sorrow and give yourself some respite however brief.  I don’t know where I’m going with this now.  The hazard of writing while at work is sometimes you get stupid people who think they have something to tell you of any importance wasting 10 minutes of your time and ruining your train of thought.  There are reasons to rage, reasons to hate people, but don’t let the hatred corrupt, let it be a piece of you, autonomous and separate, called upon when you choose, not something that runs the entirety of you and turns each and every little piece.

I really have no clue what brought this on….I just thought it up….and I wonder if it is true.

I apologize for my stunted thoughts, my half-realizations, my poor elaborations….I’m not what I used to be as a simple extemporaneous writer…mostly due to the fact that I just feel that my words are dwindling in their importance and their worth….I don’t know why.