some apologies

I feel that I have been cruel the past few months. These are sincere apologies as sincere as I can get them to be. Yet they feel forced and if I had my way, I would not write this at all. The only reason I am is because I feel as if I must defend myself. Must I? I don't know. My behaviour has been most unusual as of late, and this is mostly because I've been bottled up this general I don't care attitude. This blog is more revealing than I would like to admit, but whatever. I don't really care at this point who reads it or not. I'm actually probably going to disable the comments section soon because that's utterly useless. If you have something to say, you can e-mail me or dump it in formspring.me. 

Forewarning, below is repetitive. And if you don't know by now, you must know that I believe love (the romantic kind) is one of the most useless things in the world. That should probably give you an inkling about my personality. In defense of the fact that I write about love, well I enjoy writing about fantasy and magical realism. You might find that what I believe is sad, but is that really sad or is it the fact that the world has convinced me of this that makes it so sad? Anyway read on:

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To Whom It May Concern: 

I'm a conundrum, a sort of distorted paradox of religion and absurdism. I can tell you straight in the eye that I don't care about you, but feel guilty that I love taking the piss out of you. I can outright tell you that you annoy the shit out of me, but I won't because what if I'm just having a mood swing? But it builds up like a bottled cocktail bomb. The gasoline slowly leaks through. That's every drop we argue with until I just like taking the piss out of you. I'm thinking you might tell your friends about how mean I am. As long as you don't say I'm annoying, then I don't care - but at the same time I realize that my jokes no longer make sense to the American culture. I offend, I cause discomfort, I dare. 

This is who I was in high school, who I hid in university, and who I recovered in London. Yes, the one who will take you up on your word and be so vividly independent because she doesn't trust anyone to keep their promise. Everyone bails. Everyone leaves you. That is my firm belief. Jane Eyre had it right for me when she said, "Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?" Well, you think right. I make jokes and they hurt because I can only make jokes based on truth or my observation. I won't take your cues for compliments, and I'm not going to pretend to agree. 

And I really don't see a reason to change because the girl that was just tolerating Syracuse allowed people to run over her, drag her according to their schedules, and never enjoyed anything because she waited. Waiting just pissed her off now. And the second reason I don't see to change is because the people that matter are the people who loved me before. Love me now. As the person I was and am.
Sure, they liked the nice complacent girl, but she was terribly unhappy. Terrible. I decided to let one person - after two years - be really in there, be apart of the life outside of school, and it didn't work. Never again will I let that happen. You can't trust anything that comes out of people's mouths.

Hypocritically, I don't like hurting people though, but sometimes I just can't help it. Words slide out or I just don't say anything at all and negative energy just radiates from me. I can no longer hide or pathologically lie as well as I did in Syracuse. For those that don't matter to me, I honestly do not care anymore. You. are. nothing. The mere thought brings a curl of distaste to my lips. This is not how God wants me to live. But I'm a sociopath. Have been since 9th grade, and the only people that matter to me are those who have proven themselves to me. This is not how God wants me to live, but if you think all Christians must be pure exemplary Christians, then you're just as narrow minded as Christians the picket against homosexuality. 

Sometimes I realize that I'm a bitch. A little bit heartless, more so soulless and over all an empty shell. So many people don't believe it when I say this, and they piss me off more than they know when they assert their opinions as my truths - I go absolutely mad when someone tells me my opinions aren't my opinions (does this make sense? Like for example, when I said I hate people, someone told me I didn't. That made me just hate people even more...). Don't tell me what I'm feeling when I just told you the opposite. Most of all - Don't tell me that I believe in love when I tell you I think it's a farce. Love is a farce, a joke in your own face. And just because I say that doesn't mean I can be infatuated - think philosophically, really. Words are not rules and boundaries, they're doors to infinite boundaries. 

Anyway, this is a justification? no. This is a letter telling you that I am sorry I cannot feel for you any more than I feel for the goldfish I want to flush down the toilet. In some ways, your pain and discomfort causes me glee. I hope you understand that you cannot draw from me anything that you do not offer. If I find that you are repeatedly failing to hold up to your word, I will leave. If you drag me through the dirt more than once, then I don't want to hear it. I don't care anymore. I really don't. Of course, those who I do care about will know who they are. Those that have fallen off the map, might know who they are. 

I just can't bring myself to care. We're growing up now and I already have to waste my energy pleasing people that are worth pleasing (i.e. in the working field), so I won't be wasting it on someone who can't be bothered to put in even less than half the effort without turning it into some shit show. 

Sincerely,

the Sociopath.