the whole world was that unraveled piece of fabric

by jenibo

It is wonderful to feel liked. I semi-actively seek to be liked by almost every person that I meet. It sounds like a nice thing, I think, to want to be liked. It is a trait that makes me seem social and friendly. But it is cowardly and repulsive. And at times when I am feeling great and strong, and probably angry, I see how weak I’ve been and I decide that I hate almost everyone. And I would, I think, like to tell them about it. Somehow, this doesn’t seem right either.

There must be some middle ground. And somewhere There, I will stand and not be so concerned with the people who are indifferent toward me. Because Here, I am concerned. It bothers me a lot. And in several places and around certain people, it consumes me. Yes. I am eaten up about it. I wonder why these groups have not accepted me. Like, really Accepted me. They are nice toward me. But I still scurry around the perimeters of their invisible fort, trying to scratch my way in. I have to have style. I must have a strange sense of humor, and I must laugh like I cannot control myself. I have to listen to obscure music. I have to love God with all my heart, and never fall away. I must hike. Be loud. Drink coffee. Be upbeat. Watch It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Prefer vampires to wizards. Dance.

Well, I’m sorry. I can’t. And it’s really, just really, sad how badly I wish I could. Just to be liked. By everyone. Well, I guess now it’s more than Like. I want to be Accepted. And that’s asking for quite a bit.

Oh, great. Now I’m upset. I’ve thought too much about it for tonight. All of you, all you people who are indifferent toward my existence, Screw You.

Just kidding. I didn’t mean that. Not that last part, anyway. I still want you to like me. I want to be a part of your group. Let me in.

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