edward fox’s reality

Rated TV-14 for Mature Language. Bitch.

It doesn’t matter if you know the details of who I’m referring to, or as to what instances I am mentioning.

It doesn’t matter that as I cry now, I am crying because of the past, of what has become of me and my relationships, and what is becoming of them now.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t matter, it seems.

Why does the world care so little about someone who cares so much?

Perhaps I should become like every other heartless “prick” that you ladies and gentlemen can’t seem to deal with or want around. But do you know why they exist? Do you?

You did it to them. You heartless fucks.

That’s right. You created the ass hole, the bitch, the motherfucker. You created these words and shaped their meanings, and breathed life into the very depths of their creation. YOU. It was you, and your heartless, thoughtless actions. Congratulations. Feel proud of yourself– you’ve created a human monster.

That’s OK, though. You’ve expected that people could one day treat you this way. You’ve become accustomed to your own mistakes, then? Perhaps.

One thing I am is honest. I will not lie to you. I will never break your heart by you finding out some disgusting truth of me after the fact. That’s not who I am. I am sometimes blunt, but that goes with truth. I will NOT lie to you. I may deceive you, but we are all a deceptive people. That’s how we try to get our way. It may not always work, but we try… I am real… something that most people forgot how to be. I’m not afraid to show what I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. Everyone else who decides to conform to the ideal ways of thinking will further this problem of things that don’t matter… because it’s not your problem, is it? It’s mine? Really? Really? Really. Interesting. NO!

It’s not my fucking problem that you didn’t know how to treat someone else, and now, you created a human monster.

How can you people say you care, but show so little regard for who or what you are, and so little respect for what I am and stand for?

Maybe I’m just bitchy. That’s it.

When you’re in my position, feel what I feel, and you won’t be second-guessing what I’m saying as much. I guarantee it.

So why are we so fake? I think it’s an American thing. We don’t want anyone to really see who we really are. Rather pathetic, but that’s OK. We’re just a pathetic body of piss sometimes.

Oh I love you all.

Whatever.

If you love me, then I love you.

Really?

Really?

Really.

Interesting.

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 5th, 2007 at 12:37 am and is filed under Life, Rants, The Deep End. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.