Theatre of Cruelty

We only emailed briefly about the possibility of his attending JCon last summer, so I'm fairly certain Rusty's not talking about me when he writes:

"If anyone in your life isn't making your life better or having their life made better by your help, they should drop like a box of doorknobs back into whatever steaming pile of non-achievement they have created for themselves. Seriously. I understand human compassion (and am told I was even capable of it at one time), but you have to draw the line somewhere. If you don’t, there is a 100% chance that you will end up like them. Keeping them around so you can observe their lives like some kind of industrial disaster is okay, though. Just keep a safe distance.

So everybody think right now to that one person who has caused you nothing but inconvenience and/or pain. Now call or e-mail him or her and tell him or her that you will no longer be needing them to suck your soul dry. You'll be much happier."


It doesn't mean he isn't talking about me, it just isn't personal. And I realize he's just counseling those in this world who have actual worth. However, I've been through his latest entry about four times and I always seem to finish reading it with a lump in my throat because I've identified 100% with the dumpee.

I'm wondering if anyone I know reads him and if they do I can expect a flood of 'hasta!' emails before the end of the day. And I really wouldn't blame a single one of them. The vastness of the suckage of my life astounds even me these days and I don't say that looking for sympathy, honestly. I don't deserve sympathy and I don't want pity; I need help. Probably psychological help. The funny thing is I can't afford to have some shrink toss me a mental life preserver and once I find someone fool enough to hire me and give me back a shred of self-respect I won't have need of a rescue. Fuck, how did I end up here?

I'm a good person. I want to be useful. I want to be your buddy. I strive to make a good impression and be appropriate in social situations. I will support and defend a true friend to my last breath. I just need to do something, to achieve. No one answers my calls or gives my resume a second look and that scares me. The little room at the pit of my stomach where I cram all the doubt and insecurity is stuffed so full I can no longer shut the door and hide it away. One day soon it will burst open and rain torture, pain and chaos down on this house and those who know me.

This loser is not me.