What the fuck was I thinking?

Truth tends to be a pesky noun. Often times in life you will find that people claim that they are the advocates of truth, but more often than not they are actually the people that fear it the most. I tend to be one of those hypocrites. Constantly I search for what is true or real in life, but when it comes down to looking inside of myself and dealing with the ugly truth that directly effects me, that's a completely different story.

I enjoy criticism, I thrill in knowing what people really think of me, but if it has to do with a character flaw I am loathe to realize it. Mainly because of my personality, once I see a problem I have to fix it, I won't rest until I find a solution. So as a result I will stew and focus on nothing but this sliver of truth until it drives me absolutely mad.

I have an immense amount of respect for those who can self evaluate with little fear, who can admit when they are wrong and be happy with themselves. If I see in myself a single flaw that is my fault, I can't forgive that single weakness. I'll beat up on myself until I feel that I've thrashed my dying inner child into submission. I've discovered a new chink in my armor today, one that I've known about all along, but I finally got a really good look at it.

I have this marvelous ability to attract or be attracted to dysfunctionality. I find it in people, I find it in work, I find it in myself. I am fascinated by notoriously damaged people, like the writers and journalists that are depicted as being rather insane self medicaters. Their lives are tragic, because despite their brilliance in so many areas they still have no insight or control in their own existances. There is something so raw and real about that, so ironic... I feel that I went from someone who has had her head on her shoulders to this (as a friend coined) burning ball of fuck. Slowly I've been morphing myself into the cliche.

Perhaps the fact that I am aware of all of this is the most worrying piece of the puzzle. I see myself heading in a poor direction, and like some freak who gets off on desctruction I am bighting my lip and clenching my fists with a feeling of elation in my soul all the while.

It is also quite possible this is all in my head, that I am full of shit.

Ah well..

This was all brought on when a good friend revealed the true motives of a mutual acquaintence. It was just further proof that I have impossible expectations. I go for the wrong thing, always.

I think my own issues can be linked to the American society at large. Perhaps as a nation we are all masochists. We all secretly want to see the world burn but have to keep our faces clear and bright and filled with hope. I've been reading Machiavelli, and his works point out one clear fact about humans. You must not assume that all people are evil, but the evil they are capable of. If we are not looking to put ourselves into ruin, just for that one aggrandizing and glorious moment where we can pull ourselves out of the wreckage and receive praise for our strength of will, then we are sadists. We want to see others hurt so that we can remind ourselves of our humanity. If no one was ever hurt or no one ever tried to hurt another, then we would never have the chance to show everyone how thoughtful and caring we are. It is all a grand show we put on for other people, Social Sadism and Masochism are the giant pink elephants in every home. We all know that they are there, but we continue to watch the news and hope for something catastrophic.

So perhaps I am not so strange, perhaps I am just like everyone else after all.


Then again, I find that very unlikely.