I have a VERY low tolerance for all things intentionally misrepresented.
I’m half Shawnee; maybe it’s in my blood, I don’t know…
I will not apologize for it in advance like I do for a lot of my shortcomings; I never claimed to have characteristics that you’d model your own persona after…but I can say that I always try to shoot straight in life with those around me, as I would only want for others to do with me. “Projection” at it’s best, I suppose. I would always rather be told the truth about something and get my last remaining feeling hurt than to be lied to and sugar-coated by someone who can’t respect me enough to tell it like it is.
I HATE FAKE PEOPLE.
I can’t stand the whole “sayin’ something, doin’ nothing” virus that has seemingly infected everyone I encounter
I innately hate people who blatantly and knowingly play a role in the face of human interaction with a total stranger (or worse yet – a friend) out of pride or ego or whatever… it makes for a super-bad taste in my mouth about somebody.And I truly don’t throw around the word hate in the context of other people very often (what I say about POS car or my failing dishwasher is a different story but hey). It’s been a curse my whole life that I am unable to conform, to fall in line and go along with things that I don’t 110% agree with – it has limited me in many ways. But I am just built that way, I have tried to change the fact that at the end of the day, despite how big my frozen heart may be – logic will always beat it out. And it’s not logical to be fake in my opinion. And so in turn, I typically say so – to whomever prompted the inner-boxing match to begin with, the fake person.
That said, please know that I am a very non-confrontational person who is all about the “live and let live” concept; I do not judge people based things that I hear or think I know about them, hell I don’t even judge people based on their own actions most of the time. I judge others under the same system that I judge myself; and I judge myself in the light of reflection. What I mean is:
When all is said and done, I have to ask myself what has been said and done, think on it, sleep on it, maybe watch the entire second and third seasons of Dexter on it…and then I likely still won’t know what the hell to do about the rat that is gnawing at remnants of my tattered heart – the one that pretends to be something else entirely while it feeds from my chest.
Lately my self-reflection has been changing and mutating into something new and very hard to look at; so perhaps I’m being overly sensitive to the fakeness of people in turn. Who knows? But I do know that the sobering kick to the kidney, the wind being knocked straight from my chest upon the realization and the attached forced acceptance of so much unwelcome ugliness. The traces of any original denial remaining in me dwindle now; and healthy or not, I have refocused my Tasmanian Devil-esque state of being towards dark places – away from the reality of Logic slapping me in the face this way…
How is it possible that I created and gave birth to – reared and raised – a fake person?…
that hurts my spirit so very much and in so many indescribable ways… I know there’s no more denying this fact about my very troubled daughter…I’ve known for a while now and been working very hard to build revised parameters around this reality in my life and our “relationship” (or lack, there of). I feel as if my hands have been tied around a tree with this situation, and I remain at a total loss…
wouldn’t mind just kinda climbing under a camper shell and not coming out…(its somehow still 70 degrees in Northern Cali everyday) but I hadn’t noticed until my roommate told me we’re on drought mode…what the…?
ugh….I’ve been sleep-clowning again. I’m going back to bed.
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