Fake: The art of making me feel bad

Hello and nice to meet you.

In the spirit of not seeming like a hypocrite, I’m going to remove my dainty, little writing mask today. This mask likes to exaggerate to make things funny (deplorable) and so for this one you’re going to have to endure some honesty (as deplorable). Your first peak from lifting this veil will be a little disclaimer. This was a tough one. I had a pretty ugly reflective session earlier this week that was triggered by my little cousin exclaiming that:

Heaven is like Santa Clause and nobody knows it!

What your reading now is going to be a tidier view of what I tried to capture during this little meltdown Why tidier? Well, take a look.

Why am I so caught up on individuality? Is it selfish? I think I am selfish though and you can’t stop that. Maybe it’s our collective fault for making selfishness bad so that every poor fucker wouldn’t feel bad about something uncontrollable.

Yeah. There was some tangents I guess.

I like to call it “unfiltered” and this shows you why all of these posts are heavily edited. This post will hopefully be different though. I’m going to roll up my sleeves and try to talk about superficiality and how it hurts my darn feelings.

 

 Why do I hate people acting fake?

Tough question. Thanks for putting me on the spot. Well, first off, we’ve got standard selfishness. I’m simply curious about the whole person that they have trapped.

Of course, we have a dash of fear as well.

Do they not like me enough to open up to me?

To top this all off, I feel like its not right to treat social situations as strategy games and people as things that you have to input the right string of words into.

I do get the allure though.

You’re slippery when you’re out to please. With all this grease, you can live it up with absolutely no friction and no arguments. And I used to do this all the time. A little play where you have different faces for every single person you meet.

But it’s tiring.

It’s tiring always wondering which mask you really are when you’re a big old pleaser. Also, there’s the problem of deeper connections.

Sorry. You’re not eligible for one when you have a variety of masks. You can  be quietly comfortable in yourself when you only have to worry about ONE of you. The real you.

 

“Wow. He’s reformed and he’s so much nobler now that he’s honest!”

I wish. I’ve dropped the act but I’m still an asshole. What gives, world!

The problem is that I really dislike people’s insecurities. Burn the shy AND the meek, I say. I guess you end up hating what you are trying to avoid in yourself.

I’ve exited my quiet shell after quite a lot of poking and now there’s a part of me that gets frightfully angry when someone’s hiding themselves from me. Maybe, I just see me in their glossy shell of solitude.

Whatever the case, I take my “I know best” torturer outfit and begin an itty-bitty inquisition every time someone’s hiding something from me. It sure is a flaw. My pesky desire for deeper connections.

 

For me, anything shallow isn’t only inadequate but straight up insulting to me.

I hate small talk.

There’s a small chance that it’s because I can’t do it. It’s frustrating. Without it there isn’t much chance of spearing that conversation beast and harvesting some meat. In other words, getting to know someone.

Of course, I’ve developed ways around this but it just involves sloshing around in the deep end. Let me tell you, when you smack somebody with your little “icebreaker” about why a world without reflections would be far superior, it doesn’t usually go well. They prepped for the little talk and you’ve essentially slapped them!

All of my problems with this language and conversations leaves me to feel just misunderstood. The thing that really gets to me is that there is certainly an almost perfect chain of words for any situation. This makes you feel all the worse when I’m flubbing, floundering and not picking up a dope “high score”.

Wittgenstein talked about the fact that if you had enough time to describe a scene from your head you could transfer every detail into someone else’s mind. It could take an unholy amount of words but that one memory where you ALMOST DIED (not clickbait) could be perfectly reimagined by another person. And this never fails to make me sad. That’s what I crave. A coward’s way out. A way to just be able to express myself with the effort of a stray thought.

 

As it stands now, I’m still stuck using a failing method to express myself.

I try desperately to be honest.

If we look through society’s eyes, I am being a very good boy but I don’t think that this is really a noble endeavour. We think it’s a virtue because it takes some energy to filter everything you say. It’s strange to think how easy lying is. Is honesty a virtue because your building an inhuman (perfect) filter to be less “flawed”?

I mean we’ve been fetishising the truth and burning lying sinners for quite a while now so it’s pretty much fact that honesty trumps truth to us but it’s worth thinking about.

I do think we should give some credit to dishonesty! A noble lie is an oxymoron which it shouldn’t be. A lie for people’s “best interests” only really falls apart if the liar read the situation or person wrong.

 

I’ll stop with the abstracts about truth and get back to all thing social. In a social context, a lie can easily muddy the pool and leave you misunderstood.

This is why I’m honest. I’m aiming to be appreciated, thank you very much.

This pool has a tiny design flaw though. My honesty won’t keep it clean because, unfortunately, we’re all bathing in it together. I’m not sure why we couldn’t find more pools but never mind.

The superficial do love to turn our fine water brown. Brown, murky and complex.

Whatever their intention is they are actively conjuring shadows and falsities. Maybe not shadows. That’s a puppeteer’s job. The lie thing still stands though!

 

What’s with them and their lies? Well, humans have flaws.  I definitely do, anyway, so I’m just going to plaster that accusation on everyone! If that’s okay with the rest of you?

Of course, people don’t like these flaws very much. They aren’t held in high esteem. Our pesky brain can imagine something more perfect so why would we be fine with them? A lie can hide them and fill in those flaw gaps with some dishonest mortar. This fabricated person won’t find it easy to be understood with the amount o-

Wait.

Maybe we should be honest not to appear noble but to become what we all want to be.

Selfish, little bitches.

We don’t have to care about others feelings but golly can we care about our own. When we are honest there is more friction. However, with this you get the understanding that we need to be fuelled by. So, thank you, fuel pump for understanding me. Did I say fuel pump? I meant friend. Friend!

 

I want to finish with this.

Lies throw up smoke that makes it impossible to see US through. Let’s give ’em a crystal clear view of our shit and let them know us.

Could this be a way to be happy? I really hope so.

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