Friday, 26 April 2013

Not interested

You know, I'm more interesting than people think I am. The biggest problem is, I'm not beautiful. I'm okay, I'm pretty enough to glance at, and perhaps to approach in a bar at the end of the night. I'm amiable enough to ask directions from, and then from the way I act, people stand around and speak to me for a while.

Those things that happen, whatever they may be, and at the time you think "I really don't want to talk about this"... to be honest, you probably won't get a chance to. No one asks. After a while you want to talk about it, because at the surface you seem like an average middle-class kid whose going through an identity crisis. But it's not that. I've felt shit.

Thing is, if you begin to talk about it, you seem like you want the attention... which perhaps you do. However you also don't want to put people in an awkward position, where all they can say is "Oh shame, I'm sorry" or "Oh. Yeah" or "That's great". They have no idea what you're talking about.

Yet, even worse than that is your friends, or people who you think know you. When they hear a story and they say "wow". That pisses me off. Because, did you really think I was such a shallow piece of shit? Did you think I lived here, moved there once, graduated, went to university, dropped out because I didn't like it, and now I'm here? I've had a life. If you know me you wouldn't be surprised by the stories I tell. Perhaps amused. Perhaps let-down. Whatever, but not surprised.

I never get a chance though. Strangers don't ask me. They ask my beautiful friend, or don't bother at all. My friends don't ask me, they don't think about those things. I do, simply because I want someone to ask me. But perhaps they think I'm intruding. I don't know.

I may not be interesting, but I know shit. I can talk about shit. I have had a very interesting life. Maybe I'm just not interesting.