Me Me Me

Sometimes adjectives are proportionately interdependent.  Like, older and wiser.  Fast and cheap.  Simple and obvious.  Long and hard.  Quick and dirty.  Mature and selfish as shit?

No.  That one doesn't quite work.  Then why is that the case for me?  Will someone explain this one to my selfish ass?

Once upon a time, as an ignorant, insecure little fuckette, I once dreamt of having a family, and what that would be like.  What names would I give my offspring?  Whom would I marry?  Would I have boys or girls?  Would they look just like me?  Would they act like me?

Yet every year that fantasy would become more and more distant.  And the feelings that came with it became less and less familiar.  I began to grow accustomed to the feeling of NOT being needed.  Not being in love.  Not loving.  It started becoming harder to find love, because the feelings elicited by "love" became less frequent and more difficult to encounter.  The feelings elicited by love weren't necessarily pleasant, I'd come to learn.  Most people weren't worthy of my love.  Most people weren't worth a shit.  And the relationships with those who were worth while, ironically, did not substantiate sincere feelings of love from my side, as evidenced by the previous torturous relationships I'd had.  It was like a cruel joke.  

The closest I started to feel to true love was "self love," which again, ironically, had begun to repair and grow immeasurably since I'd distanced myself from the need for physical feelings of fleeting romance with compromising individuals I'd learned weren't worth while.  So it goes...

This pattern became pretty comfortable.  Sure I felt lonely from time to time.  Sure I often longed for one's caress.  But I also knew what it was to feel lonely when in the company of others, which is lonelier than the number one or two for that matter, and Three Dog Night can go fuck themselves.  Until you lay next to someone and still feel empty and alone as hell, knowing they don't give a damn or can even start to comprehend how palpable your loneliness is, you will soon learn this is the epitome of loneliness.  And the need of having someone in spite of how miserable it is, begins to fade away.  When you grow to know every last dimension of this feeling, you become resistant to compromising it.  Why should you?  You've come this far...

Yet again, as I have encountered, the emotional detachment that comes with this sense of non-reliance can be a little off-putting as well.  The older I become, the more selfish I become.  These are two reciprocal ideas.  Am I not, in theory, supposed to become more giving as I become older?  Have I failed as an evolved human being?  Is this anything like saying I'm becoming older and more stupid, as opposed to wiser?  Or am I actually shrewder than most?  I see those with offspring around me and I can denote how much of their life is actually sacrificed.  Yet the most fascinating feature to this riddle is how these individuals react to the situation.  Some thrive in their role in "parenthood."  Others are broken by the pressures and fail miserably under such responsibility.  And still, there are the few that rise to the occasion, those that are transformed by their newly concocted role of moral citizenship.  People who feel like their creation gave them a new purpose, changed them, made want to be "better."

I theorize that the last subset of people had nothing more to offer to the world than the most base of human contribution; they can spread their legs and breed.  I know that sounds fucked up.  I know many people will become enraged at such a notion, or rather, accusation.  The reason?  It's likely true.  Fuck 'em.  

Is there any other reason we can generally say the population likely breeding at the highest rate is that which lacks the most formal education?  Those who are learned know better, and sadly, as a result are less susceptible to bringing offspring into such a a world.  Furthermore those who are in fact educated and do have children have admittedly expressed regret in doing so, have admonished me against engaging in the same sort of mistake they have.  Word.  Of course, this is but one example.  But it only helps prove my point.  And it is all about me, after all.

Yes, people who have no higher purpose revel the newly found role we call "parenthood" like a dog would in its own feces.  Why do I feel so strongly about this, to the possible point of contention?  Because I am embittered and romantically dead inside.  I admit this is worrisome.  I admit I am one selfish motherfucker.  I can't stand the notion of being needed, if there isn't something in it for me.  If you are not my family or friend and you want something from me, whether it be financial or physical or emotional, you can simply FUCK OFF.  You would then be the enemy, in my greedy little opinion.  Anything needy is thus considered a foe.  Included in this category would be children, pets or unwanted friendships.  My freedom is important to me.  I am resentful of anything or anyone who will impede my progress, anyone who wants to steal my precious time, because if I've learned anything, it's time is too precious.  Do not take this from me.  Or I will cut you.

Of course I am also concerned with the strength of my own violent opposition to neediness of others.  Did I fail to keep a sense of humanity with my growing wisdom?  When did selfishness ever become considered a desirable quality?  Perhaps it's this selfishness that serves to keep me alone.  Perhaps...

The problem with being overtly aware of every fucking misgiving is all my arguments become entirely too circular.  There is no resolution; I can play merry go round my failures all day and never figure it out.  The only conclusion that feels satisfactory because it appeases my ginormous goddamn ego is that I am far too superior, thus misunderstood and this is why I'm in this predicament.  Yet we all know that's a cop out.  But until I really figure my shit out, I'm sticking with it.  A lot of people I know are still there, and refuse to admit it.  Human nature tends to rely on admittance as being the first step in self upheaval, so it contends itself in rolling around in admittance for  a while, because it's unwilling or unable to do anything else.  Much like the dog rolling around in it's own shit, because that was previously such a stunning little visual to keep as a point of reference,  I'll go with it.