Alright, so I'm fucking frustrated as all hell right now and it's beginning to approach boiling point. Wherein this disaster there is some unreasonable outburst directed at the person whom needs it least, I figure it's better to organize my thoughts (in a glorious attention whoring avenue) so that I might approach this from a sensible perspective. The short version of this whole thing is that I'm getting fucked. The last person who I expected to do this to me is, in fact, doing it. This is a rant of hurt pride and dashed expectations, as well as a story of helpless frustration.
Sometimes, people have things difficult. Other times, they don't. There are certain situations in which people take a position that involves both difficult and non-difficult things and amplifies the importance of the latter to such a degree that it makes me want to dig trenches through my veins with a blade. For two reasons: one, because I'm from a suburban neighborhood, I hear a lot of people complaining about things they have no right to complain about, such as financial hardship when their parent's combined income exceed a hundred thousand per year. Two, because somebody has become so desperately attached to one idea that they are willing to throw away everything they have to reach an accomplisment so restricted in it's value that I cannot possibly understand this person's thinking. My problem currently consists of both of these issue. One: She complains that her test scores are terrible and that no college will ever accept her. She laments her terrible performance on quizzes and papers only to have them returned with As or Bs. And although she refuses to tell me her scores on entrance exams, she once let slip that she was the 90th percentile.
For those unaware (Though if you are, please do not allow this statement to belittle your intelligence, I'm proving a point.), this means that she has scored better than 90% of the test takers. Yet, this still indicates that she is "stupid" and "incapable". You'd think that scoring in the 90th percentile on the fucking SAT might make someone feel good about themselves. However, for this particular lady, nothing is ever good enough.
Now, here is where we get to the moment about my pride being destroyed and my hopes dashed upon the rocks of the ocean of happiness. For those not paying any attention, I get home in 8 days now. Of course I'm excited, of course she's excited, fucking of course we want to see each other. However, sickening statements providing sentiments so deluded scare me. Namely, "I'm worried that when you get home I will have so much work that I might not be able to see you much at all". Maybe this is a case of mixed up expectations, but within all reason: just what the hell? You are certainly the most important thing in my life, why can I not be yours? I understand the hardships you are going through, I understand that your mother moving across the country is difficult, I understand that caring for your father is hard, I understand that high-school can be difficult, but in perfect honesty: You, my love, are taking this shit one step to far. I'm at the breaking point of screaming for the gods to strike upon you a sense of reality that seems to escape your fragile grip. I want to kill those around you for imparting this distinct sense of unworthiness upon your bleeding smile. For somewhere deep inside you missed the truth behind this stage, you are not a number, you are not a letter.
I would hope that at some point in the next eight days you have the sense to wake up and look around you. As slowly I'm consumed by a disgust that I can't avoid. Somehow, some way, I've fallen in love with someone who represents my own sense of hatred. You're obsessed. Just like watching the scale and counting the calories off the labels of sugar-free candy bars, you now watch your report card with the fanaticism of a psycho. If you looked up, watched those around you without being stung by such a terrible poison of both resentment and pride, you'd realize why nobody spends as much time working as you do. You'd realize that you're letting go of those around you, letting go of me, letting go of everything for the sake of a grade. It's still high-school. College does no good for dead bodies, and I don't want to see you lying in a coffin.
Why can't I save you?
Sometimes, people have things difficult. Other times, they don't. There are certain situations in which people take a position that involves both difficult and non-difficult things and amplifies the importance of the latter to such a degree that it makes me want to dig trenches through my veins with a blade. For two reasons: one, because I'm from a suburban neighborhood, I hear a lot of people complaining about things they have no right to complain about, such as financial hardship when their parent's combined income exceed a hundred thousand per year. Two, because somebody has become so desperately attached to one idea that they are willing to throw away everything they have to reach an accomplisment so restricted in it's value that I cannot possibly understand this person's thinking. My problem currently consists of both of these issue. One: She complains that her test scores are terrible and that no college will ever accept her. She laments her terrible performance on quizzes and papers only to have them returned with As or Bs. And although she refuses to tell me her scores on entrance exams, she once let slip that she was the 90th percentile.
For those unaware (Though if you are, please do not allow this statement to belittle your intelligence, I'm proving a point.), this means that she has scored better than 90% of the test takers. Yet, this still indicates that she is "stupid" and "incapable". You'd think that scoring in the 90th percentile on the fucking SAT might make someone feel good about themselves. However, for this particular lady, nothing is ever good enough.
Now, here is where we get to the moment about my pride being destroyed and my hopes dashed upon the rocks of the ocean of happiness. For those not paying any attention, I get home in 8 days now. Of course I'm excited, of course she's excited, fucking of course we want to see each other. However, sickening statements providing sentiments so deluded scare me. Namely, "I'm worried that when you get home I will have so much work that I might not be able to see you much at all". Maybe this is a case of mixed up expectations, but within all reason: just what the hell? You are certainly the most important thing in my life, why can I not be yours? I understand the hardships you are going through, I understand that your mother moving across the country is difficult, I understand that caring for your father is hard, I understand that high-school can be difficult, but in perfect honesty: You, my love, are taking this shit one step to far. I'm at the breaking point of screaming for the gods to strike upon you a sense of reality that seems to escape your fragile grip. I want to kill those around you for imparting this distinct sense of unworthiness upon your bleeding smile. For somewhere deep inside you missed the truth behind this stage, you are not a number, you are not a letter.
I would hope that at some point in the next eight days you have the sense to wake up and look around you. As slowly I'm consumed by a disgust that I can't avoid. Somehow, some way, I've fallen in love with someone who represents my own sense of hatred. You're obsessed. Just like watching the scale and counting the calories off the labels of sugar-free candy bars, you now watch your report card with the fanaticism of a psycho. If you looked up, watched those around you without being stung by such a terrible poison of both resentment and pride, you'd realize why nobody spends as much time working as you do. You'd realize that you're letting go of those around you, letting go of me, letting go of everything for the sake of a grade. It's still high-school. College does no good for dead bodies, and I don't want to see you lying in a coffin.
Why can't I save you?
Yeah it was a royal flush and i was going to take a picture but people would have said it was a fake. i didn't realise it was a ROYAL flush till we all had to show. haha
Yeah thanks man for the comment, and every one said that lens is shit outside. it's of for a beginner like me. i have the other lens up for sale on ebay and have bort another canon ef 80-210mm mrk ll.
[Edited on May 04, 2006 9:56PM]