Symmetry Means Nothing To Me...Neither Does Making Sense.

I'm my own fallacy. My own jumbled-up, distorted mess. A cheap, courteous laugh from an acquaintance who barely understands my wit -- I'm that.

But above all, a paradox.

(WHAT?)

I don't like to tell stories. I attempt, but am usually unsuccessful in communicating the purpose of my anecdote. So, I avoid it. But not all types. I like to tell funny stories. Stories of vulgarity, where I could cuss and be colorful and really avoid any sort of message. Those are the stories I enjoy telling. Other types usually just leave me marble-mouthed, struggling to find a word appropriate enough to describe any other emotion besides "happy" (or salty).

Basically, I just need a better vocabulary. One where I avoid the words "fuck" and "shit" at all costs.

Fuck it.

Do you ever feel that you care so much that you really don't care at all? I'm not sure if that makes a lot of sense, but I've recently discovered I'm somewhat apathetic towards a lot of things. Yes, just things. That's really all they are to me. Now wait a g-damn second. I'm not playing the "woe is me" card. Not in the least. Why would I do that? But more importantly, why would I care? I don't. I'm apathetic. Indifferent. Uninterested. Cool, calm, collective. I couldn't care less.

I guess this is where the paradox comes in. Because I do.

Now, this isn't turning into a story. I could tell one. I'm sure I could tell many...like the one about...

No. I'm not going to try. Because what I really want to do is share a personal, serious one with you. But I won't do that. Not via this blog.

So I'll leave you with this.

Today on the subway, on my way to work, I gave up my seat to an older man. He graciously accepted, sat down, looked up at me, and said "smile."

See, I could've went off, grabbed him by his saggy neck and yelled that it was 8am and I was tired and that I didn't get any sleep the previous nights and I was hungry and upset and the fact that he told me to smile made me even more upset and that I'm working 3+ jobs and haven't really seen any of it pay off yet and I could've cried and made a scene.

But I didn't. Nobody would.

So I smiled and pretended it didn't bother me.

And now I'm writing about it, over 15 hours later.


gah.


At least I'm employed.