The Anti-Narcissist aka Another Depressing Post
Dammit. God fucking dammit.
Why do I have to do this to myself? Why do I make myself feel like such utter horseshit? Berate, punish, humiliate, denigrate, manipulate… Everything pointed at me. Me, me, me. It’s all I fuckin’ talk about anymore. And I fuckin’ hate myself. So every vile emotional spewing is always directed at the person causing all of it.
Just me, myself, and I. Me, me, me.
I’m the complete opposite of my incarcerated father. All he saw was good things in himself, and terrible things in others. All I see in myself are the terrible things, and I see all the good things in others. I wonder what that says about me? That I’m humble? Or that I care too much? I can’t tell. I just know it started back in High School, when things were so bad at home that I focused on other people’s worries, and they became my own. I’ve helped a lot of people, and I rarely, if ever, ask for help. I need it the most, but no one sees it because I don’t want them to know that I suffer. I don’t want others to suffer as I have. I don’t want them to go through what I went through.
I tell people what they don’t want to hear, or I sugarcoat what I’m saying enough so that they’re willing to swallow it. I offer advice, but it’s on you to take it. When something goes wrong, and they didn’t listen, it happens just as I predicted. It scares me sometimes because I am that smart that I can see past the things others can’t. But no one understands it. They just look at me with their mouths agape, like I’m speaking another fuckin’ language.
I have a hard shell, but I’m a big softy. I let people see only what I want them to see, which is always me, but it depends on how far I’m willing to pull the curtain back. I reveal a lot, so people don’t ask questions, but it allows me to keep my deep, dark secrets at bay. I don’t like holding on to them as much as anyone, but EVERYONE has them. EVERYONE.
Sure, I had a couple of beers before I wrote this, and maybe I’m being melodramatic (wouldn’t be the first time), but I’m just sick of feeling like I can’t say what I really want to say. That I’m so broken over the fact I haven’t been in a relationship, that I’m fat, that I hold on to such dark thoughts, that I feel like I’m imploding in on myself, that I’m alone 90% of the time but don’t want to be, that I’m afraid, that I’m getting sued, that I’m constantly living in fear…
I have stability, but it’s not the stability I want. It’s not the stability I crave. Why? I don’t know. When you’ve moved as many times as I did, you end up not wanting to stay in the same place for too long. It plays tricks on your mind. Makes you think all the wrong thoughts, and put yourself in all the wrong positions. It’s retarded psychological bullcrap, but it’s true.
So here I sit, alone, on my computer, click-clacking away on the keyboard, trying to tell people how I feel, but most of it falling on deaf ears. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. But I don’t know how to get myself out of here. I don’t know how to motivate myself.
I want to believe, but all I see is fantasy. Where is my reality?
So maybe I lied…
I said I wasn’t going to post anything on here on twitter, not only because I’m drunk, but I’m tired from all the other shit I have going on in my life right now.
I am lonely as hell, let’s get that out of the way.
This week will be the busiest I have had the whole semester, working on projects, and ultimately trying to finish my work in my classes and not falling to pieces. This summer, I’m only going to do 3 classes. Why? I want to make sure I have ample time for myself. I went full force coming in, but 3 classes is still a full load of work. I also transferred in some credits, so technically I started as a second quarter freshman anyway. Not only that, summer is my favorite time of the year. My birthday is in 4 weeks and 12 days.
7/16. My number, my persona, my lifeblood.
I am going to be 23. Though I could say I’m old, I’m not. I just feel old because of all the life experience I have already had. As I have said, I am a 40 year old in a 22 year old body. Most don’t get it, but if you’d have seen what I’ve seen, what I have lived through, having to grow up when I was but a child…
Everyone always tells me to write a screenplay, but honestly, I don’t know if that would do the story justice. There is so much pain and anguish, too many details that build to the whole. My story sounds like it was a film. Maybe it relates back to why I want to be a filmmaker. I have thought upon this, but I still have no true answer.
At times, I seem foolish, I do things normally people wouldn’t even dream of doing. But this is my life, and I am allowed to dream. I am working hard for that dream. The drive, the intensity, the gut feeling, it’s all there. I know what I want, and if I don’t get it for a long time, so be it, but I will spend the rest of my existence working towards my goal. I would rather die trying than have not tried at all.
Elusive as they may be, dreams are sometimes all we have in this world. The belief that we can change things, that we can do better as both people, and as a society. I don’t know if I’ll ever really get what I want, but even if I don’t, the fact that I became someone of importance would push me forward. I have an ego, yes, but I am not foolish.
If doing the right thing is the unpopular decision, then I will sacrifice to achieve it. As Uncle Ben said, “With great power comes great responsibility”. I would not dare break my responsibilities, nor my loyalties. I would die by the side of most of you because I believe in you.
I believe that, we, the people of the world, can be better. I believe that despite our differences, we can come to an understanding, and a compromise, no matter how great the feat. If we only took the time to appreciate and accept others for who they are, we would have a much greater sense of ourselves. We are all different, but it is those differences that make us beautiful. It is not about the physical anymore. We have entered the Age of New Ideas.
This may all seem like a drunk rambling to you, but I believe in humanity. We may do bad things, but if we push for peace, we shall overcome our differences and shake hands as friends and comrades, Brothers in Arms, and those of solemn character.
- H (A Drunken Fool)
Out of the Frying Pan…
So life is good.
It’s been a while since I really wrote a GOOD blog, or more matter of factly, I was drunk enough. Maybe it’s because I’ve been really busy, doing assignments and shit, smoking weed, and just being Henry. I’ve been eating healthier, being more proactive in my projects, and I feel as though I have purpose in my existence.
I have come a long way.
But there are things going on behind the scenes. My Mom is divorcing my Dad, who is currently incarcerated, I’m not talking to his family, and My Mom is also dating someone. And she’s become more selfish.
I talked briefly to my sister tonight about all of that, and ultimately, I want my mom to be happy. But to move on that quickly into another relationship, and to not concern yourself with getting a job first? I find that foolish.
Granted, my Dad is an asshole, and it’s the first time my Mom has had any freedom in almost 30 years, but the dust still has not settled only 6 months in. I know it’s ALMOST over, and when it is, I won’t be worried about ANY of it.
It’s not my problem anymore. I don’t have to MAKE it my problem anymore.
I am INTOXICATED right now. It’s enjoyable on St. Patrick’s Day, but it’s also victory. I’m moving into a place bigger than my last one, all on my own, and it’s even less expensive.
I’m really happy about this. Tarzana will be different from most of what I know, as I have not lived in the valley before, but I will learn… And I will come back better than ever.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
I wrote a little scene. I don’t really plan on using it for anything, but I wanted to see if I could try and write 2 scenes worth or so of dialogue and get some feedback. I don’t have a title for it, but the plot is two friends having a conversation at a bar, which then goes outside, and gets a little mushy. I was thinking about The Social Network when I was writing it since I’ve been watching the Special Features on my Bluray all day.
Anyway, let me know what you think. I want to know if it’s any good or not.
Untitled by Henry Abrams
(Two men are sitting at the edge of a bar talking back and forth)
Man 1: Dude, were you even listening to me?
Man 2: Which part?
Man 1 (shaking his head): Why do you always have to just venture off like that? It’s like you’re stuck in your head no matter what’s going on.
Man 2 (looking at Man 1): You were talking about whether or not I would sleep with Pamela Anderson or Carmen Electra. I hardly see that as relevant conversation.
Man 1: But you don’t get it, it’s entirely important.
Man 2: How so?
Man 1: If you answer Pamela Anderson, an obvious choice for most people, you’re answering that you would dick a past-her-prime ex-Television star who’s got Hepatitis C. It would mean you’re willing to get dirty, as well as maybe the clap. It would also mean you go for exposure and power, ego if you will.
Man 2: And what if I answered Carmen Electra?
Man 1: It means you’re willing to put up with more ego than you have, and that you also care more about your penis.
Man 2: I still don’t see how this is relevant.
Man 1: Forget it man.
(He takes a sip of his martini sitting in front of him, Man 2 stares down at his beer, obviously stuck in his own head about something. He then turns to Man 1.)
Man 2: Can I ask you a question?
Man 1: What?
Man 2: Clark, why are you friends with me?
(Slightly shocked, Clark has a little trouble swallowing the bit of his drink in his mouth, then covers it, turns to Man 1)
Man 2: I’m asking you why you’re friends with me. You’re obviously upset about the fact I couldn’t answer your quandary, but you already knew it was something that would disinterest me to begin with.
Clark: I don’t know Greg, I was trying to just make small talk. We’re in a bar having a few drinks, most men at bars talk about these kinds of things.
Greg: How so?
Clark: Why do I have to explain myself? Isn’t it normal for all men to want to get laid one way or another? For Christ sake’s man, you said yourself that men think about sex every seven seconds.
Greg: Right, but you were asking me about trying to have sex with two women who I have no desire to have sex with and were popular when we were little kids. What did you think I was going to answer?
(Clark pauses for a moment, and looks at his drink, obviously puzzled and slightly ashamed. Clark turns to Greg)
Clark: Let’s just get out of here man.
Cut to outside of the bar;
(Greg and Clark are walking down the street. It is snowing. Clark is wearing a long black coat with dress attire underneath. Clark is wearing a Zip-up Jacket Hoodie with Jeans and Sneakers. Both men look cold.)
Greg: Clark, are you mad at me?
Clark: About what?
Greg: The question I asked you earlier? About why we’re friends?
(Clark stops walking and turns to Greg)
Clark: Do you really want to know? Or is this just some mind-game you’re trying to play with me?
(Greg looks Clark dead in the eyes and replies)
Greg: Yes, I want to know.
(Clark shuffles his feet for a moment, looking down, trying to come up with a response.)
Clark: Aside from the fact we’ve known each other for a long time, I really think you have something special about you, Greg. Something I can’t explain in words.
(Greg is seemingly intrigued, looks at Clark inventively)
Greg: Go on.
(Clark looks at Greg, looks back at the ground, and shakes his head)
Clark: I guess it’s that I feel I owe you some personal debt in some ways. You’ve always been there to help me when I needed it the most, you never had a judgmental opinion, and you stood up for me when no one else would. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have straightened myself out like I did.
(Clark, still looking down, seeming a little upset, starts to pout. Greg pats him on the back, consoling him)
Greg: I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m just a little tipsy is all.
Clark: No, no, its fine, but you need to really change your timing asking these kinds of questions. Sometimes your random nature gets the better of me. The alcohol doesn’t help either.
(Greg and Clark look at each other on eye level for a moment. Greg smiles)
Greg: Let’s go home.
(Clark finally smiles)
Clark: Alright, let’s.
(The two continue to walk down the street, and off camera)
The Other Night…
I starting writing this when I was fucked up after talking to @JenSquard on twitter for a while. I was upset, bored, lonely, and just decided to write about my feelings. This is what follows:
I’m starting this admitting that I am pretty stoned out of my mind. Some things I say may sound insane, crazy, or otherwise out of line. That’s a normal thing for me these days.
I thought I could be somebody. I thought I WAS somebody. But I was controlled. I had my freedom taken away from me by my own father. I was his puppet. I was sold down the river. I was treated like I didn’t know anything. Like I couldn’t take a shit without asking to go.
I’m not saying this was a North Korean prison by any means, but the humiliation… The anger… The repression of my own thoughts… Psychological damage does not heal so easy. It’s like I’m viewing the world in a new light because I haven’t been able to be myself for so long. Who am I? I don’t know.
Poetry Corner: Oh Friends Almighty
For my second poem, I wrote this after having a terrible day, and while I was very drunk. I also had this posted on my old blog, but I took it down, and now I’m putting it back up.
So enjoy Oh Friends Almighty
Oh Friends almighty,
May they reign eternal, may they shine a light on situations one thinks lost
May they understand the pain of those who set forth upon thine dangers
The beast continues to reign supreme
And yet pain and suffering do not cease to be
The anger that dwells in the followers of one who believes he is doomed for an eternity
Of Damnation and Forsaken desires
Let breathe to the, the oppressor of all that is understated
The one who giveth the light onto thine place
For I am the beast
The ruler of the darkness, the guardian of the light
The forebearer of those who come before me
The receiver of wisdom in a land forsaken by those who wish nothing
But to prove themselves worthy
The lost chapters of Oblivion bring the dawning of a new light
Blessed shall be the ones who listen when all is lost
When the keys to the kingdom of man have fallen
I will be the people’s hand
The one who seeks to resolve the major problems of the world
That is what one hopes, but may never be
For I am the beast, the one who carries the burdens
Of those deemed worthy by his standards
I am the sacrilege by which all stands
And the beginner of the new way
One can dream.