I’m a shallow person. I am vain and often define myself with the things that I possess because I never feel I’ve actually achieved something big enough to define myself with.
I judge people. Like… a lot. But I hate people judging me.
I’m vain. Maybe more vain than I care to admit.
I rarely care enough to get to know *or even invite* a new person in my life. I just feel fed up with people.
Once I get to know people I a) lose interest in them b) begin to see the worst in them.
Which makes me love my books and the worlds they create more than people and the world I live in.
Speaking of books and knowledge… I’m so deep in my own life, ego, shit, etc, that I often find myself reading news and books just to keep up with the others and not be completely left behind. Otherwise, I tend to be quite ignorant. Like… I don’t know some BASIC stuff. Which makes me really ashamed of myself.
Shame… Shame I feel after shouting at my daughter during those brief and rare (THANK GOD) moments of helplessness. Sometimes I find myself holding her a bit too tightly. Then I stop quickly and hate myself. And cry. Cry a lot. I am a terrible parent.
Guilt… No, I don’t feel any guilt. Sociopaths never do. Well. I’m not a 100% sociopath, but I’m well on my way, thank you.
I’m not a victim. I refuse to see myself as a victim of any kind. I am a product. Of myself mostly.
After reading this, you may ask:
SO. FUCKING. WHAT.
There’s really no purpose to this post.
I just felt like sharing.
I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me, I don’t expect you to say that everybody’s kind of like that. Nothing like this bullshit. There’s Woody Allen movies for that type of shit. I just felt like writing today.
And I damned well did.