#performativebullshit

[slowburndoxxing]

1

I’m not sure why this is titled this way. I think it might be because I believe, at my core, that I am a terrible person. If I can figure out whether or not that’s true, then I can figure out what I should do about it. If it’s not true, then I’ll have a couple of steps. First, and foremost, convince myself that I am a good person, in black and white. Then, figure out where I gained this belief from. Finally, figure out how to prevent backsliding. Maybe those steps will have to be in a different order. 

It’s dad’s birthday, and I told him I’d call him. I completely forgot about it until just now. I would have called him back as soon as I realized this, but then I realized that I’m incredibly high. I don’t want to call my father while high. It feels like a betrayal of the person he thinks I am.

I have a tendency to do this. Put on masks, portions of the whole that would appeal to the person I’m talking to, hiding the rest that they may (would) object to. I have read that on some level, everyone does this. This is not the comforting thought it should be; instead, it feels sad. Humans are so terrified of people not liking them that they filter, cover, hide. I just think I might do it moreso than most.

Even if I call Dad now, it would not be the correct time. I should have called him relatively soon after I got off work. A good son would have done this. I didn’t, therefore I am not a good son. These are not really what I necessarily think, they are what I believe he thinks. I think this might be because that is how I view the world. That is the type of reasoning I would use. Which says something about how I might view other people.

The human brain is a vast and complex dance of nature and nurture. While it is true that genetics have some say on how we think and act, it is not in the way that Nazis, racists, and other believers in the idea of eugenics claim. Rather, genetics involving anything except one’s brain has no real effect from birth. However, they do shape how we view the world, and more importantly how the world views us. 

Take, for example, the phenomenon of urban development. Before cars

I’m going to call dad at 9:00. I should have sobered up by then. 

Part of me is horrified at that sentence. How did things get this bad? I never thought I was this kind of person, an addict, a druggie, a burnout. But then, that’s unrealistic, as unrealistic as the idea of different “kinds” of people. The human brain, for the most part, starts in the same place for everyone. It is the world outside that makes the differences.

We might come back to that. It seems like something I want to talk about, but don’t think I should. Which is weird, since I’m the only one who is going to read this. But I’m typing it out in a… I don’t want to call it a hope. But I want someone to read this someday. I want someone to understand. More importantly. I want someone to want to understand. I want to be interesting, mysterious, vulnerable, open. I want to be everything. Instead I am worried I might be nothing.

That is, I think, what is at the core of this exercise. I am no longer sure who I am. I’m not sure if I ever was. But I think if I can figure out who I am, if I am anyone, then I might have a chance to make it out of this cage that I have unconsciously yet meticulously constructed. Except that’s not quite right, is it? Because I don’t think, or maybe don’t want to admit, but mostly I’m not convinced that this is my fault. And until I am proven either right or wrong, I don’t know how to proceed. There is no guide that truly speaks to me, completely, totally, utterly. Because in the end, everyone is different. The journey to discover if I am is one I have to take alone. 

And that terrifies me. To my core. Because I know at least one thing about myself-I am very bad at concretely identifying pitfalls.

So here’s what I’m going to do. We’ll make this a blog. An anonymous one, for now. And I know the reader, myself included since the chances of a blog with no real tags being viewed and followed is astronomical, has no reason to believe this. I don’t really believe I won’t backpedal on this by the end. But at least now, in this first and possibly last post, everything I have said is my truth. My truth. Because one thing that is starting to become clear to me is that no one’s truth is the same, and no one’s truth is The Truth. How the world really is. I want to know that. But I’ve tried finding it by listening to other people, and for some reason they all contradict each other. 

Maybe there is no such thing as The Truth.