Fruits and sexual metaphors

You know how I pretend to be all self-aware? Oh you don't know that? Wow. You are even less aware of me than I am. Rude.

Well, at times, I really do think that I know who I am, but other times reality smacks me around and I can't tell if it is doing it in a fun kinky kinda way or a legitimate beat the shit out of me way. That specific confusion is the root of many of my problems.

Anyway, I say that because I may not know how I treat others or how I make others feel at all. And I may not have a clue why I treat others the way I do. This is what got me thinkin about that:

Early in the day heinousness was flowing forth from every pore of my body and I was ok with that because it needed to happen. I have felt that heinousness bubbling below the surface and, hell! (internal exclamation point. interesting choice. thank you.), I don't want to deal with that! I would much rather others have to deal with my unbearable attitude. So I just let myself be. I didn't try to hide that I was upset for various reasons. I didn't just talk to hear myself speak, either. If I didn't have anything to say, I didn't say anything. I didn't try to lighten the mood to keep anyone from feeling uncomfortable. I just said, "Hey you! It's me!" and he/she said, "Whoa! Who's that?!" and then I said, "I JUST SAID IT'S ME!" and then he/she said, "Wait.. you aren't being funny or charming or taking care of me!" and then I said "I know I'm usually amazing and my words heal the world, but today I'm going to sit here and let the world rot so that I can stew in my own pissy-ness for a bit."

Those are the brilliant first lines of my new play, "When I talk, I say."

Anyway, I did all that business and then hell quite literally sprung forth from the pores of mother earth (Reggie, you have just been out-hippied! sorry others. that's a game the reg and I play) and my pissy-ness grew in volume. It wasn't the clear, hydrated pissy-ness, either. It was I just ate asparagus and drank a large blue-raspberry gas station slushie kind of pissy-ness. This got me athinkin'. Deep down in my heart, I think I really believe that others really don't give a shit about me. I know that sounds emo and junk, and I know I have great friends that love me, but that is just an issue of mine. We all have issues and that's mine! NOT THAT YOU CARE, ASSHOLE! Sorry. No, but what I'm sayin is that the one time when I really just did not worry about glazing over my problems with "I mean I know it will work out" or "I know it isn't a big deal" or "I'm sure I'm overreacting" or any other bullshit phrases that mask the true emotion I'm dealing with, the universe gave me the finger and everything just got messier and in the end I was very disappointed in the response. I feel like I really do listen to my good friends (at least I hope I do) and try to understand when they aren't being themselves or when they maybe are being a bit rude because they have shit in their lives. I try to help them as best as I can because I care about them. I am not Jesus (I don't think...) so I usually don't really know exactly what to say or what to do to fix all, but I just say or do what I would want from someone else because that is all I can draw from. Not from everyone, but from many people, I don't feel like I get the same respect or consideration. People expect me to be a certain way and when I'm not, their faces melt off and they get uncomfortable because they are faceless. So instead of asking what is wrong or paying attention to the more intense things I have in my life and maybe inquiring about them every once in a while just to see how I'm doing, they just ignore the situation until I'm acting my usual crazy, loud, sarcastic, indecisive, wackadoo self. Well, I know that I am a lot to handle. I know I am really difficult to get along with sometimes because I can be a huge fantastic diva with long curly locks of shimmering hair, but even with all my apparent confidence and vitality of sorts, I would like every once in a goddamn blue fuckin moon (yeah.. I'm not Jesus) for one or two people that I love to maybe try to take care of me. I realize that sounds so lame. I sound like Bella from Twilight (First twilight reference in this blog. This blog is really going downhill). But I'm trying to be honest here. I really am a fragile lil peach and I want someone to lovingly stroke my fuzz (why are looking at me like I just made a vagina reference?)

Here is my next question. Here it is. And now. Am I just asking others how they are doing and taking an interest in them and their problems because I want it in return? Is it all based in selfishness? Do people really care about one another or do we just want others to care about us and feel obligated to return the sentiment?

I started this post with the idea that it was going to be brief, hilarious, and life-altering. It took a rather long, boring, life-stunting turn. Yay wasting your time reading my blog!

I guess I say all this because I want all 600,000 of my dedicated readers to start calling and emailing me on a semi-hourly basis to constantly check on me and pity me and baby me. That's all I want in life. To be pittied and pathetic.

No, but really I'm fine. I'm sure it will all work out. I can handle it. It's ok. Really.

(heinousness bubbling)

Who do you care about? Why? Do you show them? How? Are these questions cheesy and irritating? Good.