Run away NOW

I've often said it and I'll say it again: I hate drama.

I hate stupid soaps with terrible acting and a plot line that seems the epitome of far-fetched; I loathe books that drag characters through mud, snow and rain only to lend them in a happy ending at the end with a nonchalant air that reads "oh, I gave them a happy ending so that's fine!" and I especially hate reading or watching "based on a true story" tales of hardships and perseverance in the end after a lifetime's worth of horror. Why? After all, it is a touching story that reduces the greatest mountains to weeping and undoubtedly holds some deep-seated moral to be learnt.

It's because it isn't, I repeat isn't, a big deal.

I've lived through it--the whole born into world where you're unwanted, struggling through near poverty with a suffering parent and demons that are more real than not; learning to stand up for myself and building up some form of self-confidence and maturing to look at the world through as unbiased an eye as possible. Here's a tip: It sucks. No joke. But hey, I've lived through it and come out through the ass of life's ever perverse humour relatively sane and kicking. And I'm not the only one who's done so.

So, why should I have to read what everyone calls a "life changing" book or watch a "heartwarming" story? Why should I be thought of as narrow minded for not torturing myself by submitting to the pressure and enduring those emotional roller coasters? Why should I be thought of as more naive about the world simply because I try to defend certain people who gets no defence otherwise?

I have no love for putting myself through the upheaval of a reader's empathy with a book. I want not for reading of watching something that strikes at old wounds and brings back memories best left to rest. Never in peace, I'm not stupid enough to think such, but at least at rest. Because those memories are infinitely bitter and not a touch sweet. So go shove that "bittersweet" crap up your ass and leave me be, you yellow-bellied pot suckers!

I'm a contradiction and I like it. I wear black and blue and strikingly turquoise nail-polish, a cowboy hat in a country with no cowpoke and am currently sporting a rat's nest for hair. I don't like horror movies, dramas or shows with talking animals in it. I don't like to be seen crying and it's hard enough getting me to laugh wholeheartedly. I'm a romantic at heart who wants nothing more than to sleep all day but I doubt I'll ever be able to believe romance possible in this wretched world. I love cats, I hate those sappy animals everyone fawns about because they're endangered and I have a strange fondness for my telly and Internet connection. Damn if I'm not comfortable with the way I am right now. So shove off and make like a rock out on the open sea if you have fucking problem with me!

Hah!

It's not as though I'm the only fool who's been dragged through the Overlord's strange character-building tests. I seem to be surrounded by people who have gone through all sorts of tough times and rough patches. Friends of my own who have their own struggles, my mother's friends who have shitty husbands and my own family who's not at all close. The only person I know so far who has reasonably happy family-life is a young man himself, and really, what are the odds of meeting more?

What are the odds of me ever coming to have faith in a man?

You learn all sorts of stuff out in that big beautiful world and it ain't all happy. My uncles are useless, my mum's friend who's the sweetest woman you could ever meet has a not so great husband as once was thought, my stepfather is not the reliable sort and my father is the gift from hell. In fact, my biological sperm-donor to make one half of my genes is a useless piece of arse and the only case so far I refuse to try to understand. I don't care about three dimensional outlooks when it comes to him; I'm content to be spitefully narrow-minded with my views. And anyone who has the gall to tell me that I deserve to forgive him and let go has got to be the biggest shithead I have ever met who has absolutely no idea about what it's like to go through such shit. Hell, I can't even tell the difference between what is real and what is nightmare when I think back to last time and get flashes of scenes flying across my eyes. It ain't pretty.

And with no faith in men, and no attraction towards women, I'll probably end up an asexual fop who lives with twenty-seven cats and no fishes.




...

I feel better after griping.