sounds like something a drunk Iraqi would tell his cousin sister after banging her, in answer to her earnest question: “Who’s gonna be today’s suicide bomber?” This isn’t that context.
This context is very akin to the actual context, although I’d like to shed light on one little distinction. The popular context is associated with regret whereas I’m using the phrase in a warped version context of regret: pity.
Why? one highly curious individual might ask. The answer is rather simple: I don’t fucking have anyone who could make sense of the shit I’m dealing with. Yes offense, I’m surrounded by stupid people, which, by your measuring scale, might seem reasonably sane. 3 people I know personally are the only ones I can actually talk to without pulling intellectual punches. The remaining chunk [even friends + family] think I’m a crazy, sadist prick whose arrogance is going to be the end of him.
They’re not entirely wrong either. I process emotions, too [i won’t say I’m emotionless like 98% of half-arsed eggheads]. I can imitate all emotions to perfection, and I can read almost all emotions like a pro. I just don’t do emotions. My thought process keeps upshifting, and I keep getting better at both swift contemplation and bypassing emotions. My online presence (each and every one) is primarily for watching people and their reactions/actions only; I care far less about retweets and the like than the average social media connoisseur.
Even today, on my birthday, I watched people smile at me like it was a great achievement I’d made. I pity their sentiments, and I despise their frail minds. The only birthday to be celebrated is the day you were actually conceived: the first race you ever win. Apart from that, birthdays are just a day that people take out from every year to remind themselves to love themselves and make others show that they love them. An elaborate excuse to make one feel good, no doubt. Fuck you all.
I’ll just live with myself. Will you? With all the emotional anchors weighing you down? Probably not. I’ll do a post soon, and I’ll dissect love to pieces. Fuck everyone.
As a wise man once said: Sue me.