When you meet a bastard in your life remember two things: he's hurting in ways that those of you with normal feelings and sensitivity levels can never, ever understand or even comprehend. The shitty demeanor and sinister desire to tear you down is equal parts rage and to make you stronger than he is.
Number two is: he's tried to be good. He helped, probably too much, gave too often. It starts simply enough, with a kind gesture or timely concern, but the gift you give in return lights the sickening decay inside himself for a brief moment. It's emotional drug addiction, and just like those smack addicts too zonked out to care that they've left a syringe dangling from a black, charred vein, you too will one day not give a fuck.
We seem to be beasts of equilibrium, always looking to stabilize, whether it's a medical patient or our love lives, our income or our spare time, we want to balance out everything inside and outside ourselves. Once we start shoveling on the burden of others, we begin growing the desire to tell them to fuck off.
I see it all so clearly now, though I did way back when as well. I rejected the salesman in me, the charismatic charm that was sure to get me whatever it was that I wanted. Instead I neutered that bit of my personality (a gift from my father's side), and embraced the worst pathetic and emotionally crippled aspect of my mother's. Reject me slyly disguised as a heavy handed Love me! The genuine look in my eyes sold my insincerity.
Fuck humans. Fuck it all. It'll keep going despite what you do. People will take advantage and others will selflessly help. But in the end only one thing matters: vision. If you see the bigger picture, well, first it'll be difficult as fuck to live among mere mortals, but that only helps you along further. When you're out, you're out. Eventually, you're done. On the way there you'll realize that you die alone and nothing comes with you.
Nothing except clarity of mind, fortitude of spirit. These are the hallmarks of a true bastard, least by my definition. Don't give a fuck. About anyone or anything. Why bother? If you really need to, then do so in excess. It'll cure you of it in no time. Depend on someone, really need them to come through. If they don't (most likely scenerio) then you're proven right and a valuable lesson is learned.
If they do come through for you, accept it with gratitude for it is truly a rare treat. If it happens more than once with the same person, if a pattern begins to emerge, evaluate what this person gets from being there for you and see clearly what you are giving away. Try to determine what manner of symbiotic relationship you are now involved in. I usually imagine it like a nature channel show.
Here are two giant insects, clattering away and foraging. The one insect has been feeling down as of late, experiencing some insomnia, unsure of its role within the hive. The other confirms its own role as dominant and so secure in its own position in the hive that it revels in this exchange, getting to prove that it is so strong that it is able to be there for a peer. A weaker peer.
It's so much easier to be nice when you're top dog. Hell, what doesn't come easy to someone who walks the walk and talks the talk. You can afford all the extra expended energy because there is such weakness around you. Truly you must be the exception to the rule. A cut above. And somewhere deep inside (or perhaps not so deep in some) there is a bit of you that relishes that feeling like a hot fudge sundae.
It's when we ignore that impulse to enjoy our betterness and repress our awesome, that's when the gears start grinding to a halt and all sorts of problems sprout up. Sometimes it's a burn out brain stem, burst veins and corroded heart, sometimes it's a blade across flesh running parallel up your arm, or a gun emptying into a crowd. We cut ourselves down. We die as slow and agonizing death as possible, in emotional increments.
So, that bastard I mentioned? Yeah. That's me. I did hurt. Made sure of it even. I whined and cried. Dramatics and drastic measures. I grew beyond needing them. I was able to see my fellow man as they are: your enemy in Emotional Darwinism. In today's age there is so much left actually unaddressed and spoken about. No confrontation which leads me to being a good and decent man, once upon a time.
When you strip away attachment to personally imposed ideals, what's left. I want to decry and defile just as much as I would want to sing out and embrace life. I really don't care either way about myself, which is technically an impossibility, but alas even I can not truly rid myself of that sentiment of the ego.
So I sit and gaze out on as swanky a fucking view as you can afford to have, while my 'clean air generators' posited on nearly every street corner absorb all this unspoken horseshit that sits festering like psychic manure around this entire passive aggressive, fake-it-til-you-make-it city called New York. It's a bastard of a city, and it's hurting.
Time to kill it once and for all.
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