But it needs saying, in the same way that painful boils need draining.
I feel horrible about all the rude and mean shit I've said and the people I've said it to who didn't have it coming. [If you were nasty or repeatedly insufferable to me first, and I was forced to be rude to get rid of you, you had it coming.] This includes family members, friends, recent ex-friends, people I work with, random people online...you know who you are. That's one reason I quit chat: the anonymity and the clique-ish-ness [is that a word? It is now] makes it so easy to be mean to people just to get your power yayas out. I don't need further encouragement to be mean to people I don't know.
It probably doesn't count anyway, because I think you're supposed to say you're sorry in person; but I don't have the balls to say it to anybody's face, so there it is. I'm tired of being mean, and if I knew how to be otherwise, I would. I end up saying things that sound clever or sensible in my head, and just sound awful once they leave my mouth. I don't know how to stop because I can't identify half of it til I hear myself say it and think, "Jeez, that sounded mean."
I really wanted to turn out as somebody nice. It just didn't happen that way. I don't know how long it's gonna be like this.
I know what it is, largely: to function decently, I have to have an unrealistically low noise level. What I ask for, in terms of quiet, is a pittance compared to what would actually be comfortable to me. But it seems to be much more than anybody can realistically accommodate. So it's not selfish in terms of my needs, but it's very selfish in terms of what I can reasonably expect to get. So I'm furious at people for not understanding what I need and helping me out; and I'm 10 times as furious at myself for even daring to ask for it, or to want it. The same gulf between what I need and what the people around me think I'm entitled to has also surfaced in areas like sexuality and privacy. I can't NOT need what I need, but nobody else thinks it's a reasonable thing to ask; and I don't have any standards of my own, because it's useless to form your own standards. It's just fucking useless. Nobody else gives a shit about your standards anyway; they're just going to make you follow theirs. So I just stopped bothering to have any. Also, for a long time, what I thought was perfectly reasonable wasn't. So I gave up trying to judge what was appropriate, because when I tried to express myself, even bowdlerizing it to the point where I wasn't really saying what I wanted to at all, everybody thought it was gauche and inappropriate. The only standards that count are the standards of the system you're dealing with. If you try to impose your own, you'll simply be ostracized or expelled. So by the standards of my workplace, of the society that I live in, and of all the other systems where I operate, my needs are inappropriate, extreme, and diaper-shittingly selfish.
So when they come into conflict, I just find something blunt and beat myself up. It hurts less than cutting and doesn't leave a permanent mark.
There has to be a healthier way to atone for what I am, if I can't stop it. Killing myself would hurt people; I've listened to them talk, and they get really angry if you kill yourself. They hate you after you're dead, ostensibly for taking the coward's way out, but secretly for depriving them of your company and for making them feel guilty that they might have been able to stop you and didn't. Doing some charity work might make me feel like I'm putting a positive in the world to counter all the negatives that come out of my mouth; but I don't know of any charity work that doesn't deal extensively with people, and I don't think I could tolerate that without getting meaner. I was sorta hoping to just make tons of money and give it to charity, but that doesn't look like it's going to happen anytime soon. I'd disappear and make it look like a kidnapping, but who you are sorta follows you wherever you go. Also, my family would be looking for me, and they'd be upset that I was gone. But I would really just love to disappear. People would get over me and move on. They always move on.
Again, I'm sorry. I'll try to be better.
I will not respond to e-mails regarding this entry.
~MePosted by Frida Peeple at June 9, 2005 11:36 AM