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no one has the right to feel sorry for me, except myself It was quite plain that something wasn't right with me, but as usual, I don't say a thing about it. Dad asked if I was tired. I said yes. And that was it. When Nasty Comment was made, Mom shot me a look that I interpreted as, "You poor thing." That was about when my mood took a 360 degrees turn...I'm instantly reminded of lunch. My aunt's husband took a jab at my 3/4 vegetarianism. Everyone was all concerned about what I was going to eat, and stupid shit like that, which does not rub me the right way. Not at all. I don't even bother saying anything when they pull that stunt. I just let my folks do the talking, because quite frankly, I'm tired, absolutely tired, of people going off about what I eat, or don't eat. And quite frankly, I hate it when people feel sorry for me. For whatever reason. No one has the right to pity me, but myself. It just completely annoys me. Nothing is deep anymore, you know? All my relationships with people I interact with face-to-face are all so shallow. So on the surface. Nothing ever goes beyond what the surface holds. And when I try to let people in, they disappoint me. Stab that penknife into my heart and start twisting savagely, without even realising what they're doing. So here's the deal. I've came up with a new mantra, and a life philosophy for myself. Brutus in Julius Caesar is a stoic. I'm thinking I could be a partial stoic. I'd take pain and all things fucked up as they are and don't dwell or whine over and about them, and when it comes to things I enjoy, it's self-indulgent time. I can fake as well as anyone. I can be as fake as the next cat down the block if I want to. And you know what? It's about fucking time I start doing that. Being honest and sincere has led me nowhere. So it's time to slip that facade back on and cut everyone out. I don't need meaningful relationships anyway. Who does?
before sunrise // before sunset
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