introversion – thirty nine

introversion-thirty-nine

-introversion thirty nine

punched well above my weight today,
walked out of the door,
even spoke to someone
-W.E.

It’s not that I can’t,
INTPA’s (because based on a handful of tests apparently that’s what the fuck I am) can walk wherever and hang with them all,
it’s that I don’t want to.
When you’re conscious of it,
when you make the decision whole heartedly,
does it make you conceited,
does it make you arrogant?

Perhaps neurotic,
self absorbed?
Must there be,
boxed in categories?
This or that, either / or,
against or for,
peace and war,
chaos,
calm and furore?

Who made all these definitions,
who voted on these sub divisions?
Were they premonitions?
Understanding of dispositions?
Or just fancies of men with access to manipulating others into submission?

To believe what they prattle, what they understand only between their own two ears, using that as a benchmark to measure the rest of humanity, a saleable idea, easily marketed to the masses, paid for with the gullibility of us all, our intense desire to belong to something, anything, an inkling, whatever, a string, a thread of hope even if it is to the most ridiculous and unproven, to the feeble and unscientific, something that makes us feel a part of something greater and larger.
Where do we sit then on the rubber band of social acceptance if all these categories of acceptance are just man made, man manipulated, humanity amputated, and simply regurgitated?

The myth of me-ness, of you-ness is quickly dissolved when your last breath passes your lips and you meet your reality, and then you know, you were never real, I was never real, we were pigments of our own imagination, waiting to expire so we may truly know our lot.

Oh look at me, pretending to ask a question,
been there, done that,
I know how all these fat cats,
got filthy rich,
whilst you and I twitch,
we can’t scratch the most basic itch,
but they keep adding illnesses to the DSM lists.
Do me a fucking favour, stop finding a cushion of comfort,
walk along the glass bed,
sleep on a rock,
stay stuck in a hard place,
get stung,
pricked by thorns,
it’s the most real way you will taste the truth of your condition,
don’t just dwindle off into the mundaneness of accepting the status quo, because it hurts to admit the truth.
Look further than the presentation of the stuff that flashes, and glitters, the answers are never that easy to get to.
If you arrive quickly, you’ll exit just as fast.

No, I’m not OK, don’t ask me because I don’t give a fuck really about how I feel.
RUOK works for some, never will I discount it, but on the contrary, asking some of us is fucking annoying, some of us just want to be left the fuck alone.

So let me beat you do it, IMNOTOK thanks for not asking…. really, honestly,  IMOK with that, in fact I’m better off not being asked.

-W.E.

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