The Enemy of the Good (eideteker) wrote,
The Enemy of the Good

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A Simple Case of Timing

One of my older customers today was complaining about how one of his son's high school classmates, a pot head, was now making six figures, and how the world wasn't fair. I'd assumed that "fair" was a concept which attenuated with age, as conception of reality increased, or at least, crystallized.

It's not fair to chain someone down because I'm afraid of being alone. It's not fair to make someone you love feel like you have to put up with them. Fair doesn't go away with age or time; it just couples with regret to become worse. Crap. It's not like I was counting on it, but I did have my fingers crossed.

It's come to my attention that I'm severely boring many of you. There is now a handier way to remove people from your livejournal readership list. I have eighty some-odd people listed as reading my journal (three of whom are some kid named Royce Barber), but I'd much prefer that number reflect my actual audience so that I can shape my tales to entertain properly.

Boring people, making people put up with you, feeling like you're doing either or both; I want those feelings to go away, or at least to subside for awhile. There are thousands of oceans within me, and they all have different tidal cycles. Some I wish I could control more than others. Some I wish were faster; the cycle of longing is so slow to creep in, but then takes forever to ebb. Torture.

I come off as standoffish a lot because I like people at a safe distance. I don't get hurt too much anymore, but I worry about hurting other people. Take away the other children in the classroom and I'm free to run with scissors. Are you shallow because you only can say to most people, "What's up? How are you? What's been happening? Ok, bye."? Does it make me deep, then, because I'm laconic and brooding when I'm in my deeply introspective moods, like this weekend? I feel so shallow I couldn't even submerge myself if I wanted to get away from it all, nor could I drown my cares.

I repeat myself a lot. My mantras are very long, so sometimes it looks like I'm telling a story, or recounting an experience. Really, I'm just meditating. Wide awake and hydroplaning, wide awake and all alone.

I'm working too hard. I'm pushing the lard.
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