The Sitcom of Self

(my thought of the day in between tootache, tummy ache and the urge to do number two but when i sit it on, no shit come out my hole)

are we really ourselves when we say we like each other the way we are, or are we just being civic and courteous? or is it, we like the self that we project outwards towards others so that we do appear that likeable and shield our real self in the process? how far are we allowed to be a little bit me and a little bit you?

whatever…but lately it seems we’re too busy being ourselves and stubborn too to want to be ourself so much that when we say we’re in love with who we are, we really are in love with ourselves.

but we’re fucking grown up for crying out loud. we should be able to come to terms with things. things that you say, “IT’S THE REAL ME” and things that i claim, “THIS, IS THE REAL ME”. True we are in the process of synergizing who we are each in order to become the real ‘we’, the ‘team we’, the ‘us’. But now I sit back and reflect and find that we have let egos run our love. Run our lives.

I mean, yes, I like myself. I like the fact that I can be this independent and capable of looking after myself. I like the fact that I have the most talented and amazing friends. I like the fact that I’m not timid to express my ideas, my feelings and my concerns. I like the fact that I’m a little bit kooki and queer and out of sorts and random and quirky. I like the fact that I’m associated with a certain establishment. I like the fact that despite all that worldly vanities, I’m still capable of falling in love. There’s still hope for a person like i. And I like the fact that I’m not perfect. If I were perfect I’d sit next to God everyday and pick on the mortals with my fingertips and turn their life upside down just for fun. I’m imperfect. But my ego, is a true a perfectionist.

So in part, I’m one of those generic human who want things to be perfect. I don’t really give a pig’s ass that I have to be perfect, but i bounce it towards others and drive them to be the perfect self i thought they should. Yes. Yes. I have the tendency to insanely do just that. And that’s like shaking the bejesus out of a person.

So, is it really who i really am? A driven perfectionist self-alter ego maniac who like to bust a gut out of a person? Or am i this twisted delusional perfectionist who pompously refused in silent to reflect and pick deeper under my surface?

There’s only one imperfect other who’d love to skin me out with his samurai sharp analysis. Skin by flesh by bones to the marrow. And, if you’re reading this right now, with a hint of smile, you know who you are.

-n-

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