Thursday, May 24, 2012

but nothing revolves around me.

I like to think that I'm a pretty mature guy. Emotionally, at least, I think I'm more in touch with myself than most could confidently say. I seem to have an innate grasp of why I do the things I do, why other people do the things they do... I guess I like to think I'm very emotionally mature. I know my flaws intimately. I know the things wrong with my life, I know the things I do right, I know what I want and I know what I'll never have. I know when I'm being unreasonable and I know why I'm being unreasonable,  I know I'm overreacting and know simply that I will continue to overreact, I do something great and I do something shitty, and I know exactly why I did those things too.

I break my own actions down like an incredibly useless piece of technology that someone turned the knob up on way too far; analyzing every single thought I think, action I perform, gesture I witness... I think a lot of myself, obviously; me and my mind and my ability to understand things. I think I have a really good grasp of that stuff, a sense of totally grounded, untainted realism combined with
I Sometimes, though, I overestimate that. I look at the disheveled mess of everyone else's thoughts, neuroses and complications and think to myself with a disgusting self-satisfaction, at least I'll never be that way.

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