Indignant, Lonely, My favorites, Selfish

When Did I Become Such a Pussy?

I don’t mean a pussy like a female reproductive organ. I mean a pussy like the tapered piece of wood that you hit with a stick in order to hit it again with the stick in a game of tipcat.

I used to stand up for my beliefs. Back when my beliefs were stupid and annoying and made other people feel bad about themselves. But people needed to feel bad about themselves because they were making mistakes. I made mistakes too. I make mistakes too.

I still make mistakes. That’s important. You also kept making mistakes, but I stopped pointing it out. It’s not that I stopped caring. I still get frustrated and walk out of rooms just to stare at walls breathing deeply until I calm down. It’s that I stopped showing my reaction. Instead I sit idly by while I get flipped in the air and then batted away as far as can be batted. Then instead of hailing insults in my wake at my assaulters as I fly through the air I simply wait until I land and the bets have been placed on how far I have flown.

That joke will be funny to the one person who is googling the rules of tipcat while knowing the basic elements of the game and stumbles across this blog instead and finds themselves intrigued by the title because they are sexually frustrated because they haven’t gotten any in a while and are trying to keep their mind off it by researching 17th century children’s games. Well first of all that didn’t work, pussy. You haven’t gotten any because you are ugly and you refuse to get a haircut because you think that that will be compromising some part of your identity when the reality is that getting a haircut will just stop offering you the excuse that people don’t like your hair and that’s why they won’t sleep with you.

Second off: Fuck the rest of you that didn’t get it. Not that you should have gotten my joke, but more that I don’t give a fuck about you. I’ve given too much of a fuck about you for a while.

Did you read my last post? It mentioned Glee.

When did I become such a pussy?

People need to be tested. People need to be uncomfortable. People need to feel like shit. People need to feel bad about themselves. People need to be like me.

I had forgotten that. I had forgotten how important it is for me to to force everyone to be more like me.

Do you wanna see the first paragraph of my novel? I don’t give a shit. Read it:

“I am a prophet and this is my religion’s bible. My religion’s Bhagvad Gita. My religion’s Koran. My religion’s text in story form that explains the philosophies by which a member of my religion should live their life.”

The dude who wrote that wasn’t a pussy because that dude wasn’t scared of everybody’s reaction because that dude wasn’t so desperately lonely that he held onto any basic element of friendship that would make him feel like he wasn’t running wildly through a blank hall of broken ears unable to hear his screams. So he screamed softly the things that those ears wanted to hear. Well now I’ve whipped out my dick and you all are going to get earfucked.

1. You can’t get laid. Neither can I. Neither can people in Darfur. That person near you doesn’t want their genitalia near your genitalia, and that doesn’t mean anything more than the fact that they don’t want their genitals near your genitals. That isn’t some great indignance against society. Mostly this guy is a douche.

2. You’re a mother of an upper-class white kid with a nanny, you aren’t saving the world. In fact you are probably causing a lot of pain to the world with your 6 foot by 23 foot stroller made of petroleums made of dead pelicans. By the way six people died to make your engagement ring and you are complaining about your $50 haircut – you are a piece of shit.

3. Stop telling me that this silence is awkward. I know. I’m in it. I probably made it awkward in hopes that you would stop trying to talk to me.

4. Doing drugs doesn’t make you cool. Doing cool things on drugs makes you cool. Stop bragging about how much you smoked, drank, or at what time you did. Start bragging about how you need an alibi, you don’t know where parts of your body are, or you feel like you invented wormholes with your emotions.

5. Saying “fag” ironically isn’t subversive. Your existence is subversive – in that it subverts intelligence. I don’t think I used the word subvert right.

I think I’m less of a pussy now and more of stick.

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2 thoughts on “When Did I Become Such a Pussy?

  1. I know I should feel good that none of your points really apply to me, but really it just makes me feel more lonely. Does that make me a pussy or just a girl? Or does having a pussy make me a pussy? Not the tipcat kind.

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