So while standing around at work today, it came out that I should talk about what bothers me. Sigh. I thought thats what I did here. Constantly. But maybe not in the way I should have. It came about while standing around, watching the idiots at work try to pick up one forklift with another that they had tipped and wedged inside the back of a semi trailer. As hilarious as that sounds, I'm sure it was somewhat dangerous. Probably because they have idiots involved, with heavy, diesel powered equipment, inside of a wooden trailer. But I digress. The point of the story is, that the girl in receiving had ample time on her hands to talk, as did I, watching a spectacle like that. We were going back and forth about alot of observations, and the lasting ones kind of ended up on my part. Summise to say, that she suggested that it was something I talk about.
I really don't see why. I think I have. I mean on here, I've given more than my share than what should be known. But I hesitate, not because I've said it before; but who am I saying it to, this time? Does it matter to anyone that reads this? Will it matter to me years in the future when I re-read this? Or is it just going to be some other phase I'm in... some funk... some perpetual thought process... me complaining... something like that. Is that how it will be understood? Perhaps, it is the point of being understood. But, returning to the point, I didn't really have a good answer for her today when she asked me why I didn't talk about it. I think, which is what I said, that it offended me deeply. It does. And naturally, I don't really like talking about that, when its out into open air. If someone offends me, I want to get to the point of that. The problem is, I never got that chance. When someone treats you like utter shit, you can NOT be anything but offended... or slighted... or used. Its that kind of feeling that I wan't to get out. I'm angry about it. But at the same time, its not that. Its about never getting a chance. For spite, being treated like shit, comes to mind... treating someone like shit that you knew to have feelings for you. I'm talking about ignoring that entire idea. Pretending that didn't happen. Arguing with them whenever they do anything. Always looking for a motivation to reject any overature for anything I might do. When, in simplest terms; I just really liked her. I thought I got along well with her. She made me smile. Yeah. Thats why. Or whatever. Being seen for face value, and openly rejecting that. Without a chance. In favor of... The choice that was made. Again, thats my personal opinion, that really doesn't belong out of my head. But ofcourse, I wan't my way. I want to argue my case. I think I was entitled to a shot, as much as anyone else was, and maybe more so. And it burns me up at times. Still. Months later. Thats kind of what we talked about today.
Its been in the back of my mind anyhow. Ever since I started listening to the lyrics of a song... called the Byronic Man. After doing some fact finding, I found that its a typeology of a character associated in classical brittish lit; especially that from the Romantic period; given by the name sake, Lord Byron. The Byronic Hero, as its conecptualized; includes elements of : [according to Wikipedia]
* having great talent
* exhibiting great passion
* having a distaste for society and social institutions
* expressing a lack of respect for rank and privilege
* thwarted in love by social constraint or death
* rebelling
* suffering exile
* hiding an unsavoury past
* ultimately, acting in a self-destructive manner
The concept was, at first, nothing of note. The only thing of particular interest, was why did they even bother to name such a character? But the more I read into it... The more I started thinking about how well I apply to it. No wonder I embrace certain iconic characters more closely than others; several of them show to greater extent, these types of qualities. Certain ones, maybe some more than other, I struggle with. And if any of the previous paragraph rant, about love and scorn should register, it would ring with the premise of becoming "thwarted in love." Its nothing. Or its something more base about myself, than I previously put much thought into before now.
It still leaves me with the conversation we had. More importantly, the answer to the unasked question, why does it bother me/ why do I still harbor resentment about it? The point was made today that, all people get burnt, all people have a hard time, all people have self doubt; yet all people move on. Which means nothing. Its not that Im not getting on, its not that I live curled up in self doubt, or that every day I turn this into a Scott's-life-is-too-hard game. In fact, my retort had something to do with; at those instances, where people are challeged with the fact of hard times, or challed at the point of self doubt, or are challenged to oblige misery; don't those times become pivitol in the formation of the REST of their life? Aren't those the defining moments that provide the point of change? She didn't seem to follow me. Maybe I reflect on S. and this entire fucking mess as being the point at which there has to be some turn. Maybe, after years of getting treated like trash, and never finding anything that has ever worked out in this sense, maybe thats why I focus on it. Because to me, I wanted it to happen. I wanted very badly for that to be come a positive point of turn; and instead it was a very negative one. She grasped the idea of it today, but asked me if that meant I was going to give up and go gay. I laughed. But with a straight face, I think about the giving up portion of it.
So here I am talking about it. Allegedly, this is the problem I have. I don't talk about it. Yet, what was there, in what I just said that was really worth mentioning? Anybody that reads this has little to no less respect, no more contempt, and no more control over the situation. The one that should read it, won't. And who the hell is that? Honestly, I don't know anymore. I could argue the object of my illrepute... I could argue that. But she doesn't care. I could argue that my friends should read it to understand me. But thats beyond understanding; it enganges in empathising if anything. I should say, the girl of my dreams should read this; but that probably isn't even logical. If its anyone, who should read this, its probably just me. Maybe thats what Jana meant when I'm supposed to talk more about it. It would be too easy to be angry to the girl I tried for... Just too easy to be angry, to be hurt, to ask why I'm no good, or why I never deserved a chance. It would be pointless to tell people that have no interest in me what so ever. Its laughable to think that my best friends could do any more for me than to listen to it, like raindrops on the rooftop. Its probably best that I act it out in my head. Its better that I keep it to myself some times. Its safer when I don't talk to anyone about it. Because, I guess, I'm a better salesman when I keep my mouth shut sometimes.
Its appearant, that I am quite passionate about a few things. Even if they are personal. Thats why I choose not to talk about everything. Because talking doesn't do anything, and a lot of times, it doesn't even make you feel better about it. I got burnt. I got jerked around, taken for my time, my effort, and my character. In return I gave back faith, understanding, loyalty, and genuine friendship. All I really lost was some money and some productivity at work. But figuritively, I suppose I damaged something else I'm not especially sure I wish to repair. I'm not sure I care enough to try to fix anything about it. On her side of the fence or my own, I mean. I'm not rushing to make with the good guy, uber winner, come off approach to her. I'm not going to get any lip service about how good of a person I really am, or how wrong people can be to people like me. I won't even get an appology for my feelings. But I'm not rushing out to change my feelings either. Its altogether wrapped and tied in the same package to me. I really do think, that I'm not interested in fixing any of it anymore. For her, or for me. Or anyone else for that matter. But I talked about it.
