|if i made you feel 2nd best, girl i'm sorry i was blind. you were always on my mind...
||[Jun. 9th, 2003|03:25 am]
|[||Your mom ain't listening to
|||||Willie Nelson is highly underrated...||]|
self: you don't consider yourself a clever person, do you? i certainly hope you don't think you're fooling anyone.
me: i'm the only person i need to fool. everyone else will fall in line if my fiction becomes fact.
self: you've eaten a lot of bullets in your time and suffered many a wound because of it, so i can't blame you for being cautious. but how do you expect to get anything in life by waiting until the timing is right? you'll be dead and cold in the ground before you feel the timing is perfect.
me: so instead i should act on impulse and potentially ruin perfectly good potential? what if what i get isn't as good as what i imagine i want?
self: sure. continue living life as though in a parallel universe, another you was impulsive and ended up getting what you wanted out of life. living vicarously through an idealized version of yourself that doesn't even exist. you're the epitomy of mental health.
me: impulsive behavior has never benefitte-
self: BULLSHIT! impulsive behavior brought about some of the best experiences of your life. those occasions where being "impulsive" only hurt you were occasions where you spent too much time deliberating the proper thing to do until the time to act had gone by. just open your fat mouth, flap your tongue for 15 seconds, then shut your fat mouth until you have an answer or a black eye. if you don't, i'm giving you a black eye myself.
me: you act like you wouldn't do the exact same thing if you were in my position.
self: sure i would, and i'd expect you to tell me i'm an idiot.
self: what, no witty retort?
me: no, i'm realizing that i'm blaming timing because i'm too afraid to trust another person to not hurt me, even if it's someone with whom i'd trust my life.
self: it's the baggage we bear, i suppose. we delude ourselves into believing the scars we bear are medals of honor and personal growth, when they really serve as a reminder that life is frightening, that personifying ambivalence is easier than sacrificing yourself to someone else's whim. trusting someone with your life is easy. trusting them not to take your heart and chuck it out the back of a van at 80 mph is one of the most terrifying experiences one can experience.
me: timing still plays a role though. the only control here is how i feel. there are so many wild variables out there that i've only a vague idea of. the idea of putting myself on the line when there are so many situations that effect how she'll react is terrifying indeed.
self: so instead you'll do what you've always done and begin to pine away?
me: no, for once i've learned that i should just accept that the chance for failure is too great in my mind (even if it isn't in reality) and concede defeat now, while i still just like her.
self: give up now and it won't develop into a crush? give up now and you won't fall in love with her?
me: it's hard to fall in love with someone when you're determined that you can't pursue something with them. it's hard to have a crush on someone that you can't fall in love with.
self: ...you love her already, don't you?
me: she's a beautiful person, a wonderful friend. of course i do. i love my mom too, but you don't see me trying to date her.
self: lest ye be reminded of the incident with the stitches.
me: make a decision, be a prick or be useful. pick one and only one.
self: fine, i'll lay off of you. i know you're an idiot right now. alright, so we've established that you seem to think you can discern between "i am in love with" and "i love".
me: one can develop into the other, given proper circumstances and situation. it's all a matter of the variables.
self: simplifying something impossible to define into algebra probably isn't the brightest of things to do.
me: find me a better metaphor.
self: oh, good plan. use algebra as a metaphor for the most fragile of human emotions. either Taft would laugh at you for making algebra that complicated or Stock would shake her head at you for your poor writing skills.
me: good plan. mock a fragile soul because he doesn't want to commit to something that could bring him the commitment he wants in his life.
self: you've learned one lesson too many from your wounds and scars. take that "failure only happens if you try" one that sounds as though it came from some demotivational poster and throw it out the window. replace it with "you can't succeed if you don't try" and "life isn't as long as you think it is, so get out there and live it or die".
me: sometimes you actually do inspire me.
me: no, you dumb bastard. you usually just repeat the same thing i've already thought out days before.
self: sorry for trying to be helpful.
me: sorry for being an ungrateful prick.