Trompé Setsuled (setsuled) wrote,
Trompé Setsuled

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"Them That's Got shall Get, Them That's Not shall Lose, So the Bible said and It Still is News"

I've come to the conclusion that no amount of Morrissey songs can prepare you for your inevitable inadequacy.

I was looking at Sonya's journal again this morning, though I know I probably shouldn't, and I was reminded that she's a wonderful person. Every time I get bitter about all the love and attention she seems to get from people who know she hurt me, I ought to remind myself that I used to think she was the bee's knees, too, and now I'm negatively biased, perhaps by my own self-deception more than her blundering. She may not be a better person on the inside in a vague, metaphysical, unquantifiable way, but for all practical purposes, she's more attractive, nicer, and more successful than I am. I'd say more talented, but I guess that's subjective.

I wish all headway I make with reconstructing my ego wasn't dependant on lying to myself. I blow things out of proportion to make them less cruel, when it was probably just a matter of an innocent girl getting freaked out when a guy maybe liked her too much. And there's something I'd promised myself I'd steer clear of--innocent girls. Girls who talk to you like you're the greatest thing in the universe, until you start to believe it. Then something happens, a genuine mistake, maybe you don't even know what you did, and she won't forgive you. Why should she? You did something enormously stupid and/or mean. Only a sucker would forgive you.

I suppose my ideal is someone who can love their friends with their faults, not in spite of them. That's why I've had my fill of innocent girls for a lifetime. Before Sonya, even, there'd been girls who would tell me I'm the most magnificent thing in the universe within hours of meeting. And if I started to have faith in them, I'd get the rug pulled out from under me big time when I realised their words were poorly articulated or ill-considered exuberance.

But the question then is; do I feel inadequate because I'm less than the man it appeared she believed me to be, or because I'm less than the man I need to be to fulfil my own desires? I'd say the latter, mainly. I suppose I could take comfort in the knowledge that most people fall short of what they need to be. I think those that don't tend too often to misjudge how much they owe to luck.

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