I'm not bothered anymore by the fact that you can't be bothered.
It's kind of difficult to get all worked up and hurt by someone so.... *thin*
1s and 0s... isn't that what you think? For the first time ever I can truly say that that's all you are. Lil electronic impulses that move and spell for mechanical purposes.
I think it's funny that you actually lecture and bluster about reality and truth. You don't know anything about either of those particular topics.
You feed yourself the appropriate drugs for your moods, cultivate ass kissers like pearls to make you feel pretty and special, and fabricate whole chunks of happenings for what seems like the pure joy of fabrication.
You must really think I'm stupid ... that I didn't notice your bullshit ... didn't notice that your little profundities are just pabulum stolen from better lips.
Maybe you're just so used to everyone clamoring for you that it never occurred to you that someone who actually thinks you might not be too bad with a little time and a little work could also have something to say that contradicts your constructs. Something that smacks down your neediness and asks you to listen for a while instead of just waiting to talk. I know I'm not the first to make that demand and I know that I won't be the first to walk away from your black hole.
You like to think no one knows you, and I think that might just be true. Because there is no 'you' to know. Ephemeral-tissue paper and gauze. That's why you're so self centric-because you desperately need the cement of attention to make your fictions solid ... if you look away, you might just disappear.
So it's good that you have an entourage ... people content to just sit around and talk about you ... run to your needs ... because they imagine that it means that they're special, exotic, and strange too... a contact high.
Ever notice that they all leave? Ever wonder why that is? Are they all just assholes who never really liked you in the first place? Used you? Got what they needed and left? Or do they all finally get tired of being spotlights, highlights, the perfect strong contrast you require to be anything more than a lying, self medicating, self sabotaging, manipulative, narcissistic, sheep-minded drama queen whos total worth is only measured in how much you can get out of your host on any given day?
It's a small, blood sucking creature with no backbone that hides in the muck and can poison you while it bleeds you dry.
Just a parasite.
If you have to ask if this is about you, then it's probably not.
Then again, maybe you're just that damned clueless.
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