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Laugh And The Whole World Laughs With You…Or At You

August 14, 2014

I find it interesting that the funniest among us are so depressed, beatdown, or just screwed up as people. I’ve been wondering why that is and as someone who genuinely tries to get a laugh, so much so I’ve wanted to try stand-up, I can safely say it’s mostly a defense mechanism. At least in my case and probably in others. I make jokes and am sarcastic about so much I thought I took nothing in life seriously. And I still try not to, but there are things I am dead serious about and sometimes it’s hard for me to come off as serious without seeming very hypocritical.

“You? Take something seriously?!”

Yeah, I do. With the anxiety I’ve entered a serious phase and not much was funny to me–least of all the anxiety for a while. It made me a very brittle and coarse person. Aaaand since I associate most with Heather…I…kinda took my issues with her out on her instead of being a friend and letting the little shit slide. Just so we’re clear: I mean verbally being mean and not physical abuse. I guess that made her hate me to the point that she could detach from me very easily. We’ve come to an equilibrium of sorts, but nothing like pre-2008. I have myself to blame there and it’ll forever be one of my deepest and most cutting regrets. Why was I so cruel? Why was I so harsh? She’d never been anything but nice to me and I treated her like shit for so very long and I still have moments of assholery.

I’m not proud of any of this and I don’t expect anyone to sympathize with me because it’s a really messed up thing to sympathize with. But when the mask of humor dropped and I could no longer be the person I used to be it just got ugly between us and I’m still fighting my way out of that hole and I hope she sees that I’m working on it, because I truly am. I don’t want to be that brittle person anymore that spews venom with each word. I want to be me again and I want her to see me as I’m supposed to be and not the person I had turned into, because I hate that guy and everything he stands for.

He’s not me and if it seems a little nuts to be referring to a side of myself or a person I was in the past as if they are separate entities…well…sorry, but they are. Doctor Who put it succinctly:

We all change. When you think about it, we’re all different people all through our lives, and that’s okay, that’s good, you gotta keep moving, so long as you remember all people that you used to be.

But yeah, it’s a good point: we’re not who we were in the past and that person really no longer exists. With The End Of Time illusion we think we’re static beings and our likes and dislikes and personality never changes, but these things do and oftentimes they’re so subtle that we think we’re not changing and not moving forward. So the mind is very deceptive in that way. I sure as hell know it was for me. Still is. But I’m more self-aware. I also have no idea how this ties into my first point. Let’s consider the first paragraph a happy little diving board and I painted in a happy little pool with a bittersweet smile.

In all seriousness I’m glad that I’m losing the harder edge to who I am but I know I have a lot of work and as I described in a very earlier entry: these things are wrapped up in each other so much that it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. I’m saying, “Fuck that,” and taking a sledgehammer to it and mashing the damn thing into a fine pulp.


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