We all pretend, one time or another, to be something we are not. Children like to pretend they are adults. The empaths like to act as if they could give a fuck. The lazy try to portray that everything they do, is in fact, the most physically draining of activities. Likewise the insane, like to believe they are not in the least bit crazy. Gaunt people tend to puff up a bit more. Some morbidly obese people like to pretend in public they exist on merely salads and water. “IT’S GLANDULAR, MY DOCTORS ARE PUZZLED.”🙄😏👍
But not all people pretend. Some people are completely self aware and unashamed. 10% probably have no reason to be ashamed, the other 90% are likely narcissistic, and horrible people. As for them, I feel they should be bound and gagged… slowly lowered into a vat of hydrofluoric acid, toes first.. over the period of an hour. As they are slowly submerged into the liquid, razor sharp darts are blasted through their bodies at over 100 mph. These high speed darts run them through, leaving a tiny cluster of nerves exposed. Each dart would be followed by a sharp blast of lemon and salt. The soundtrack to their slow death, would be David Hasselhoff’s rendition of “I’m Hooked On A Feeling”.
FUCK YOU, HOFF!!!
Ironically, the ‘Hoff’ will be the first narcissistic tool put to this death (I somehow need to incorporate little people dressed as clowns into this). Their screams shall be harnessed to power a “Puppy Playground Paradise”.
THE “BOOD” ABIDES
Not sure what lead me down that route, wasn’t my intended course.
Moving on, I have always considered myself a reasonably sane person. Capable of rational thought, a good conversationalist, not necessarily paranoid or … you know… loco!
Self destructive at times? Perhaps I am a bit guilty.
Self indulgant? Well, I do have an appreciation for some of life’s finer things. I mean when considering Jack Daniel’s, or say Whistle Pig…. duh!!!
This ain’t cheap hooch
I have never really considered myself to be one of… well.. “fractured personalities”. Ok, there exists the running jokes about Gemini’s and all…. PLEASE….The thought that I could be that insane, is absolutely preposterous. Where are the voices? HMMM!?!? What about marked personality changes?!?! The personalities stemming from other decades.
Not EVEN an issue here.
I mean, sure, I talk to myself, who doesn’t?!?! At least I am not answering that crazy son of a~ wait… just one.. gawd… damn… minute. Somebody is trying to trick me into something here… I am way too… um, ‘all together’ to fall for that.
LET’S PEEL A FEW LAYERS
There is just one thing that plagues my inner-most private thoughts. It is only really, wellll, I guess you could say a ‘slight’ concern? I mean really, if we are all being honest with ourselves… there is that voice of consternation in the back of our heads. Well mine could be considered.. (AHEM!)
A little self doubt…
I (I don’t know how I should phrase this) allegedly, as silly as this sounds, I seem to put landmines in my own path, unnnn..beknownst… to me???
Hahaha… That is rediculous, I know. But once I began taking responsibility for my short comings and failures… I was compelled to acknowledge my roles in the stupid shit that has taken place in my life. I, apparently unaware, lay out pitfalls, landmines, bombs in my path to fuck it all up.
Mutually assured self destruction is defined to me as:
When one, or more than one of me, are out to get me. Plotting ahead of me, for my own demise.
This would insinuate that I am secretly turning the screws against myself. That I am not alone in my head. Could I be schizophrenic?!?! LOONEY AS A FUCKING TOON?!?! AN ABSOLUTE MAD-MAN?!?!
All the sudden, Pink Floyd’s “Us and Them” is streaming in my head, complete with visions of me wandering down a lonely hallway, in a straight jacket, mumbling the question over, and fucking over in what sounds like 20 voices simultaneously….”Is there anybody out there??” This eventually becomes riddled with maddening screams coming from inside my own head.
Gawd Dan, can you be more melodramatic?
“Yes, I, can.”
Oh fuck! Answering myself now...
“Lithium, party of 10!?”
(Slips the maitre d a cool C note.)
“Hey pops! Make it a table for 12, a couple more us of popped in. Should be a gas, Dadd-io…”