Art is but the art of being

The Narcissist

I remember the first time I met you. Me, at a foam party, having the time of my life with my best friend. You, scoffing at the sides, having been dragged there by some mandatory social construct. Social constructs were always your thing anyway, obligations, doing this because you thought you should. Because in your mind doing them made you a perfect person. Oh how you were delighted to find me, the opposite of what you wanted. How delighted you were to feel superior to me, and me, teenage me, suffering from something on the opposite side of a God-complex, saw in you the confirmation of everything that was in my head. And I believed you. I saw in you the leader to my life I could never be, I saw in you my saviour from the lostness that was me. I saw in you the one who knows what he’s doing, who knows what’s up. Little did I know, the only thing climbing the ladder was you. And so the lost in a world of feeling second-rate teenager fell head over heels for you. The one who made her feel just exactly like that.  

       The fact that someone else loves you doesn’t rescue you from the project of loving yourself.                                    

                                                                —                Sahaj Kohli

Do you have any idea what it feels like to feel utterly worthless? To feel like you’ve no purpose on this earth, that you’re here only because your mother’s vagina decided to spit you out sometime because even that didn’t want you any more? Do you? I guess not. Because no, you think the world of yourself. You are so goddamn smart. And nice. And wonderful. Successful too, aren’t you a dream, huh. So then how come nobody likes you. No really. How come? Because they are too stupid to like you, you say. And I believed you. It was like I was part of the cult that was you, doe-eyed and misguided. Because you are smart. O yes, I’ll never deny that. But just because you’re smart doesn’t give you the right to make people feel like the ants on your shoes. Just because your smart, doesn’t give you the right to close your eyes to every other opinion, view, logical framework out there. Or maybe it does, who am I to tell you who to be.

    It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows.                                            —                Epictetus                            

You never said it, no. But you made me feel it. Every goddamn day I was with you. How everything I did, thought, wanted, needed and breathed was useless, ridiculous and stupid. How you were the emperor of success and I was a rock at the bottom of a river. Rolled down by the grace of the water. Oh how I was lucky to be with you, you never failed to remind me. And I believed you, because you were so smart and so successful and everything you said made sense and everything I said was dismisseable. If I wanted cheese on a sandwich you would even talk me out of it, and I let you. Because I respected you. And I respected your opinion. And in the end I just didn’t care enough about the cheese to fight for it and it was easier to just agree, to just say ‘yeah, you’re right, cheese really does belong on a tosti and not a sandwich.’ Nothing I felt existed unless you decided it did. If it didn’t fit into your logical framework, it could not exist. My feelings were never valid, as yours always were. And I let you. Because I looked up to you, and I had hope. You’d say I’d drive you crazy if I’d be near you for more than two weeks, you’d say you didn’t feel like ‘me’ today and that I should leave. You’d ignore me, sitting sadly on your bed feeling miserable about failing exams, because you just didn’t do feelings. And I should quit my whining.

I was quiet, but I was not blind                    

                                                —                Jane Austen

How you loved talking about yourself, how you indulged in my interest in your life.   Because I cared, I listened to you, I asked you how your day was even when I was down and I’d listen to your endless ramblings about things I knew nothing about. Really listen. And I was happy for you, because it made you  happy. Because if you’re happy, I’m happy, right? That’s how it works, right? But if I’m ever happy happy it must be because of one of those stupid loser things I do, those useless redundant contributions to life you think are below your snobbish little materialistic standards. Oh sure, you love your new designer green floors, but not the way the proximity of a dog makes me light up. Because dogs suck, right? And I am stupid for liking them. never would you pass up on an opportunity to talk down all that I was and all that I loved. Never addressing me personally, no. But I felt it, the wrath of your harsh judgement on what I felt was my soul. Chipping away at it, bit by bit, until I’d remain paralysed in your view of what I should be.

You think that disapproving glare works on me after after all the times I’ve seen it?      

       —  Carter to Captain Mitchell, Power Rangers Lightspeed Rescue

You have a job, a real job. And wouldn’t you ever let anyone forget it. And your field of study is the only field of study that matters, the only one that’s actually worth a dime, right? And because you have a job, a real job, anyone doing anything else is dismissible and useless to you. But guess what, you can be a jerk regardless. Even with a job, you’re just a jerk with a job. And while you were at it, my field of study was a complete joke. Of course. I recently watched an episode of the big bang theory where Sheldon tells his girlfriend just how useless her field of study is and how superior his is and you know what, that is just what you are. Selfish and unnecessarily harshly entitled.

   You’re sick of me but I won’t blame you. I blame myself for everything.  

                                       —                Despondent                            

But you know, I blame myself. I blame myself for dating you, because I knew exactly what you were. I blame myself for staying with you, because I saw exactly what you did. I blame myself for blaming you, because it’s not your fault that I’m stupid enough to stay. I blame myself for not accepting you the way you are and for wanting you to change. I stayed because I had hope, I hoped that one day your words would ring true. That one day the words I care and I love you would show and not just reverberate as useless syllables in my head. They always say optimistic people are stupid and negative people less disappointed. You know, they’re right. Because if I’d wanted to see the bad in you and not the good then I would’ve left you a long time ago. I would’ve known that you don’t know what the word love or care means, tht you only take and have no ability to give. It’s not your fault, it’s just who you are. And it’s my fault for asking you for it, when I should’ve known you could never deliver. I would’ve known that those words would never mean anything, that your condescending, dismissive, haughty attitude towards me meant that you liked my attention. But that you never liked me. Nor loved. Because this is not how you treat the people you love, or maybe YOU do. But this, this is not enough and too much all at once.

Don’t be pushed around by the fears in your mind. Be led by the dreams in your heart.

                                     —             Roy T. Bennett_ The light in the heart

But you know, I love me too and I love me too much to stay with you. To let you destroy me. Because I love you and that gives you the power to destroy me. That means I respect your opinion, I take it to heart and care about it. And I’m worried that if I stay with you any longer and listen to you drill me into the ground day after day, that I’ll start believing you. And to me that’s the worst thing, to see myself as you see me. To change into all tat I’m not by melting into your favourite cheeseless mold. You do not make me smile when I am down, I do. Because if I am down you blame me for it, dismiss it as if anything not logical to you is pishposh and leave me there to wither.

Giving up doesn’t always mean your weak sometimes your just strong enough to let go

                                                                —             Taylor Swift