dir/old_school/rant: T h e   p u s s y   p e o p l e   i n   m y   l i f e

There is nothing worse then when you roar and people run.  I always roar cause I’m pissed, not cause I’m gonna topple buildings.  Every time I feel myself kinda unwinding and really opening up to people about how I feel, they run.  My ex, ran, I think she trampled over shit to get away from me once I finally told her how I felt.  A good friend of mine, who I’ve been desperately trying to get back with, finally gets in touch with me and I barely opened my mouth and he runs off, again…  My close pal and writing homey Jonnie has run off too.  Jonnie always runs off though, so that’s old hat, he is the consummate pussy.  My old roommate Stace, got in too deep and not only did he run, but he fucked me in the process, beautiful huh?

Sigh…what do you do? 

Part of me feels bad, the other part, feels like I went too long, silently building up my pent up rage, a bad thing.  We know that ain’t true though right? Or like, maybe I didn’t make the right effort and throw myself into being committed to it?.  So I shuffle my feet and kinda hold my head down and really feel the loss of those people in my life.  I think about all the times, you know the good ones, when life was good and we were happy.  Those times where I very casually pointed things out to them, tried to talk calmly and rationally, always made an effort to explain and really make those moments of frustration or confusion or being totally dissed into a learning experience and really making the relationship stronger though it.  Did it ever work.  Hm, ask my ex, ask my old roommate who went through his fair share of problems and sucked me into his world, ask any of my shitty friends who sit around and act like schmucks and then run off like big pussies. 

 You know what, I think I should roar more, maybe start biting and clawing and really cutting into motherfucka’s.  That’s just me, I guess.    I’m so sick of the little pussy people of this world who stay in relationships with you until you ask for something in return, like respect or consideration or just hopefully a marked spot where you can stand and not have to get caught up in all of their shit.   I think that is a lame trait in people today.

My ex, was more then happy to keep me around as long as I did things her way and the minute I kinda pointed out that I wasn’t happy, she’d make the occasional effort, an inch to the left, an inch to the right to accommodate me.  The accommodations didn’t usually have much to do with what I though would help.  She had her own play book on how to make our relationship better.  I wasn’t usually informed of the strategy and when I was, I couldn’t really interject or make much in the way of suggestions. I was just supposed to go along with her happy newly wrapped and bow tied present of how things would be better.  Every time I shook that box though, I could hear the crash of something badly broken inside.  It didn’t help that I always felt like I was going out with a damn hippy, who didn’t want to work on things, just wanted things to be right. 
I should have known, she was the kinda of woman who would leave a big glob of toothpaste spit right in the sink and not rinse it, never replaced the toilet paper roll.. 

-Sigh- 

I so hate when it feels like my rants are little jabs at little bullshit people I should not have fucked around with in the first place.  See, sadly, it seems the answer is that I should do what they do, I should bolt the moment they look suspect or less then beneficial to me.  Sucks to still love them, ex’s or just friends, it does hurt when you do really still like the person and they usually just hurt you.  I understand why people nut up.  You are close to someone, you love them, they are your most trusted friend or your best bud and they fuck you. 

I guess I can relate with all the people who don’t handle it well.  I have to ask myself why I continued to date a woman who constantly pushed me away and always spoke of why we couldn’t go out, why it wouldn’t work.   The minute I stopped pining, the minute I stopped being depressed and just went back to doing my thing.  Alone, happily, not stuck on her… she wanted me again.  She’d speak about loving me and wanting to see me.  Sick shit.  On a side note, when I finally roared, it was just a long awaited “Fuck you” list.  The Fuck you list- and I changed it to “Screw you”, was for all the disrespect, the inconsiderate shit.  For all the bluffs and manipulation.  All the bullshit of her never thinking about me, other then maybe that I annoyed her cause I wanted to talk about things, make the relationship better, which would have took effort, something she didn’t have a lick of when we first started dating.  I just figured we’d work it out, you know, work in progress.  Besides we had a good thing, a little glimpse of love right?
The people who love you are the people who usually fuck you the most.  Sad but true.  And gosh if that doesn’t sound bitter huh? 

I don’t know… I think we choose our pain carefully, like a car we want with all the sweet things, like leather and sunroof. Hm…do I want depression or melancholy, do I want bad sex or good sex.  Do I want something which really hurts and rips into me or just constantly aches…And then we finance it, sign our life away for a couple of months or years and really settle into it.  Drive it around, till we break down and find ourselves, back at the dealership looking for the latest model.

Fuck that. 

Haven’t been mad frothy in awhile folks, bear with me. 

I do not relate with the nut bags and the weirdos and the people who stay in shitty relationships.  Usually I sit beside them and don’t even realize we’re going to the same place.  The only thing that seperates the crazy people from the normal people are that the normal people know they are crazy.   So I send my ex a stream of pissy emails. I really light into her. Folks, to be honest, whatever rants don’t make it to KungFu anymore cause of my kindler and gentler self usually smolder and stay lit in this little corner where my heart used to pump blood.  So the ex totally runs in shock and fears I have become the Angry Emailing Black Man to her and now I am to be feared. A suitable denial route for not dealing with any of the shit I have said to her. 

So then she tells me she’s gonna change her locks and I should get my stuff before she does the deed.  All I can think is that I was the person hurt most in the relationship.  And this bitch is changing the locks?  Like I want to come back to that, give her some of my pain? All because I finally gave her a piece of my mind.  Give me a break.  She totally confuses the topic or at least tried to lay the guilt trip by then asking me to personally say goodbye to her son, since we won’t be talking anymore.  I didn’t tell her I didn’t want to talk anymore.  I much prefer that people stick around awhile longer so I can at least tell them everything I disliked and hated about being with them.  And then maybe the equilibrium can return and I can feel less repressed, less fucked and more willing to rebuild something from the ruins of something that we both built badly.  Instead, she has all my winter clothes, my tv and my favorite thermos.  Change the locks, goodbye to her son. 

Whatever.

Maybe I should pay people to come to my site, it’s so much about having a therapy audience sometimes. I don’t understand sometimes how people can keep so much shit in and not scream, not rant and rave.  It’s why we got motherfuckers snapping all the time.  I have no desire to snap, but I do love a good rant.  It is my balance.

So yeah, my relationship with my ex was fucked and I stayed around way too long, confirming the fucked up status.  I should have ran earlier, sometimes it’s so nice to be with someone, even if every time you’re with them or away from them, they tear you down and fuck you up.  I still love her though. I still love anyone I have given my love to, anything less would be uncivilized.  It just aint necessary to be around people you love, especially when they are prone to hurt you or take advantage of you.

Right…C’mon, have more sense then me at the least.  I hope that when I write I can at least show people where some of the landmines are.  If you don’t feel good, try to work it out, try it a second time.  Then leave.  Run, make your way somewhere else, anywhere, but in a place, where someone has the power –that you gave them- to fuck up your world.  You can love them all you want, don’t let them hurt you over and over though.

Before you do that, lean back and scream your fucking head off, get it off of you and leave the bad shit, the phlegm and the coughing fits behind you. Don’t carry them around with you.  Its cancer, discard it, let the heart flow steadily or it’ll fill with fire and ashes.

I want to talk about all the other pussies in my life, but it would be redundant right? You know the story, you even know the people.  Granted, they might go by other names and look a little different, but really do they ever change? They aren’t usually that original are they? No, they are not. 

On my way home from work today I found myself with the mental list out, writing feverishly in my head about every sad fuck who has plowed through my life, all the while calling me friend.  It is not easy to think that the people close to me, hurt me more then strangers do, then enemies.

 My mentor would say to be at peace, not to be bothered with any of them.  I want to strike and lash out, I want to wear armor and cut through people before they even have a chance to ever hurt me again. There is some duality though.  If I close myself off and just cut aggressive actions across the board, I will eventually cut out the good people too, for bullshit infractions, I might very well miss the good folk, even hurt them as others have hurt me and I kinda pause and think about that.  I don’t really find myself bitter or angry with the world.  I just hate that it’s always the people close to me, who wreak the most havoc in my life. 

 So I write about it.  I share it with you, all my frustrations and anger.  I would rather therapeutically write it here,  then turn out like any of my friends who wisely are no longer hurt by anyone are no longer loved either.  Too high a cost for me.  People fuck up, it’s our nature. I fuck up, I have torn people apart, with words, I have hurt people with actions.  I am not an innocent, I have fought on the line myself and done my fair share of hurting people. 

 Life is about love and hurt, pain and feelings, we can’t have one without the other.  We can only hope to not be shaded too gray a color of nothing and let people alter who we are, what we feel.  Honestly enough, all the pussies and all the hurt do not change my love for the person, just how I deal with them.  That is the only KungFu in this lesson, the rest is just TMI

epilogue: A few years later, I understand a few more things.