“Actors fall into this trap if they missed being loved for who they really were and not for what they could do – sing, dance, joke about – then they take that as love.” – Gene Wilder.
I personally take this quote to say – People can conflate what they do, for who they are. They think people will love them for what they’ve done, rather than for who they are. I don’t think we see ourselves for what we really are.
One of my greatest fatal flaws is that I have a very inaccurate depiction of how the world sees me. Inaccurate meaning, clouded, rather that incorrect. I don’t think I am a Hawiian basketball player…but I might believe I could become one.
Perhaps the people I write this for, could sum me up in a few sentences, and then they shut up about me. I personally think that I am not someone who can be summed up in a few sentences, and maybe that upsets people subconsciously.
I will admit, that I haven’t taken the time out of my heart to really try and sum up or explain many other peer’s complexes and why they are the way they are. I’d like to, if given the chance, but it seems like the world and I have a mutual agreement to stay a wide berth apart. I don’t involve myself in other’s personal business uninvited anymore.
Sometimes I am discouraged by people. I’m waiting to die of embarrassment that I ever thought I was ahead of anyone. This article is not about how everyone lets me down with their pretentious insignificant contributions to society. It is more about the oversaturation of my important intelligent influence on the earth.
Speaking of alliteration with the letter I, I may have mentioned it before, but I do believe I have a pretty low IQ. Everything comes easier to other people. Although, I, through diligent persistence, am relatively happy at age 26. About 4 years ahead of my projected schedule.
Anyways, I don’t think I’m unique in saying that I have used art as a platform for communication. Writing my books, and singing my songs, and being the funniest handsomest man in the room all the time, is all just a way of hiding the fact that I don’t know who I am, and I’d like someone else to help me find out what those qualities are that make me myself.
I mentioned that my anima seems to have run its course in my previous post. Although not entirely finished, in a sense, I think what my latest hurdle has become is that with this little hole in my philosophy that took up the past miserable 13 years of my life, one has to kinda sketch a new idea of what a relationship looks like.
My therapist has been a good start. And I like hanging out with my man friends who are on the spectrum because they don’t question bullshit like sexuality. And there other people, too.
There is a subtle a feeling of hoping they’d all do and be better (and the others be kinder). I must be in the wrong class, city, and social circles – which is likely because all it takes is walking into one wrong room and the smartest man at 26 become Dostoevsky’s Idiot pretty quick.
Please take all this with a grain of salt. It feels good to just share my thoughts of navigating life as it unfolds. I’m happy with who I am. I want to be loved for that, not for any conditions around my name (but boy, who care’s about creative outlets if they don’t make you rich and famous). And maybe the other side of that is looking at others for once.
Aside from some hiccups that naturally occur from too much seltzer water and a reintroduction of meat in my diet, writing and as much is seeing progress, yet not perfection. The trigger days seem to move around, but as a general rule of thumb, Thursday nights have been unreasonably difficult as of late. My conclusion is that either in college the weekend started on said eve, or when I was working my tail off, Thursday night was enough of a week’s good work to unwind. But waiting the 72 hours to see if I will get to go back to school, sometimes it can feel like a wasted effort.
Last but not least, bizarre dreams as of late. It’s poor form to talk of dreams, but very, very disturbing. I’m afraid to go to bed. I was stuck in purgatory and I’m not going to lie like it felt like 6 months, but it felt like Midnight until 3 Am the following day. I don’t want to talk about it. Well, I do, but with, you know. It seems like since I am not stressed in waking life, hell is on the other side.
Ben Bonkoske 