Saturday, June 3, 2023

My Brush with Consequence

I always wanted to be inconspicuous. To belong. I think it was an ADD thing. I feared if I were put in charge of something I'd crash it while I was distracted. Or that if I were observed much I would be found out as a fraud. Up to a point I had no end of discipline and structure in school and I think I flourished, more or less, or in comparison with how I did later. 

Later, when the discipline and structure were removed, I crashed and burned. A single car accident, like running off the road, but I probably hurt some feelings and disappointed some people on the way. Here I chronicle that crash. And the compromised person that came out of it, crippled by shame, beset by doubt, and insecure. Insecurity's other side is arrogance. 

Can be. Compensatory arrogance. I did see and understand things other people didn't or couldn't. I don't know how. It didn't make me feel good or special or smart it made me miserable. I felt alone. Confused, isolated and indignant. How could they not see it? Wasn't it obvious? 

You can imagine how I've reacted to recent trends. Trump, the celebration and affirmation of everything awful. Everything shit. Too painful. Lose, lose, lose, lose, lose. Not a win in sight. Which is why, no doubt, the assholes are obsessed with winning. Real winners keep their heads down enjoy it and work to preserve it. For Americans not to feel like winners is just delusional. 

This is not a chronicle of facts or events but of feelings. No timeline. Who needs it? I got fucked up and I stayed fucked up, even with the awareness of it. I'm aware of it now and it does me no good. Shame is a bitch. It feeds on itself. You're screwed up so you do screwed up things and feel bad about it and I never got past it. Shit happens. And a whole life can play out like this. 

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