a brief history of…

Sociopaths.

Some less dangerous than others. Some dangerous in more obvious, more definition-of-danger worthy ways. The others much worse in the long run. Those charismatic, handsome fucks that really are no more than the latter. That really have no more worth than, the latter. That manage to climb you like an (albeit rather short) ladder. And what does it say about you that you fall under his charms? That you seek so hard to believe the feigned aspects of interest. Though they leave you under duress?

Those days are over, you say. Those lessons, this time, have been learned. Easy to say this time, in retrospect. In hindsight vision is 20/20 so the cliche says. Meanwhile your new glasses, that you can’t adjust well to your face, somehow leave you motion sick constantly. Though because they are grey, you will never EVER give them up. No not ever.

But you will – return to insurance. Leave the job that looks good ‘on paper’ so to speak. Take a pay cut. Fear a walk around some foreign countryside. Get back to the words. Leave the waste of mind space behind. Monotony and less salary exchanged for sanity. And whenever you have to make such a big decision, at a crucial point, your knees quake. Body aches. Because you are not stable like a crab. Your joints are not reinforced. Like the wood crustacean brought from cuba. That looks at you with sparkly pink eyes. That some poor child, no doubt, created.

You can’t be trusted. But it’s quite contrary to the ways a sociopath is not to be trusted. But your recent encounters with more than one makes you fear for your own superficiality. The cruciality. Of progressing for once, in both thought and deed. While these deranged men work on compulsion, you wish to formulate a difficult, but stick-to worthy plan.

Think about Shoegaze. Think about the many lost days. Your so-many rather lost ways. Think about think about driving yourself mad. Think about your newer of  friends (the others just fed up) telling you they feel so sorry for you, the way you exhaust yourself . Spinning yourself in circles in your head. Think about overtime. Think about doing time. Think about. The ways by which things can be and can’t be. Mine. My  Bloody Valentine (how fitting their best album is called Loveless – a highlight being the circus-whirl of “When you sleep” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9-NOIalUYU ) and gazing at shoes. That one is never happy with. Too tight against the baby toe corn. Too tight in a way that shows age. The age that no one else can detect. Those bruises and stretch marks, sagging and bagging. I was young. and now it hurts. That youth gone. Those decisions lost never to be found.

And the utmost frustration, that as your nose changes and you grow to be your mom, who has grown to be your grandmother, everyone still thinks you are 19. Can’t be taken seriously. Or hit on random men your age in public. Because while men allegedly want someone younger, it is still not socially acceptable to approach them. Is it acceptable to approach anything? You really don’t have the heart for it anyway. Nauseate.

Can you wait your whole life waiting to be approached by the right thing when you are so very picky? Picking at all the things you were told not to 17 years ago? 17 years ago. You were full of little scabs to pick at, and nothing more. Things were simple. You were the closest to happy you’d ever been. Even as the ugliest you’d ever been. You were, the leader of the pack. The slightly sought after one. Most sought after of those hardly sought after at all. A confidence you’ve never known since.

Sunday nights. Fear of invisible bugs. Dread of waking to Mondays. Low on sleep. But be happy. It’s what you asked for. It’s what we all live for.

And gazing. Ever. At shoes. Shoes you are perpetually displeased with. Shoes. Bras. Pants. That will never fit. But you will buy more anyway. It’s the one thing you can’t give up on. It will be long before. You get up on. Anything worth noting again. The sky will cave in. Snow will terrify, more than mesmerize, you. As it falls from the sky too  plentiful. Too chaotic. Tom Cruise will remind you of so many men you meet. You never guessed it would be this way. You never guessed. But you didn’t have to guess it was all a game you’d never wanted to play. A game that strained you. That you were forced to play.  A game that you never had time to train for. That never had time to train you. That would betray you, slay you, time and time again.