I don’t understand people.  So many of them don’t understand themselves and yet they want me to live my life by their rules.  I don’t know what goes on in their brain, what makes them think that the way they think is better than the way I think.  So many of them, lost in their own hubris.  And they don’t want out, no,  not ever.  It’s comfortable for them to continue what others started.  They can’t be bothered to sit down and cogitate.  And still, they want me to listen to their inanities.  But I believe, I’m a perfect bitch.

I prefer people who are honest about their insecurities.  I like them because they’re not lying to themselves or to me, even when they’re vociferously defending their cause.  I do not like people who blindly adhere to principles that were never their own.  They do it for expediency and emergency.  I find it so glib and unprincipled.  I have principles of my own, and they come from a more heartfelt place than theirs.  My principles tell me not to think too highly of myself, not to judge someone before I know their story and not to be a total cunt.  I must admit that I’ve failed to uphold that last one quite a few times, but that’s just because being a cunt to someone is a nebulous concept of its own.

I have feelings and it’s okay because I’m human.  But I think about those feelings too.  I try to ratiocinate their existence, to a certain extent at least.  I don’t want my fleeting feelings to rule me, that’s why it’s important for me to think about their origins.  At the very core of my being, is a deep-rooted mistrust for other beings.  I cannot help it, I’ve read history.  So sometimes, when I feel this way, I like to write it down.  Even if it’s unappealing.