What goes on inside MY head? Why? What fleeting satisfaction would that give you? Do you understand the kind of question you're even asking? I'll fire it back at you- What goes on inside your head? Try to answer that directly. If you wax philosophical and generate a broad and elegant life-theory or goal or psychology, I grantee you, there will be a contradiction between that philosophy, and a number of your past actions. I am not the only one without a recognizable pattern. Not the only one with inconsistencies. Look around you Privilege, EVERYONE DOES IT. EVEN YOU. Such a slew of inconsistency is caused in a person by a rapid series of often violent changes to the world around them. Trying to exist appropriately within a world that spirals in so many random directions will create a great deal of confusion and a great many unpleasant events. The only reason that I am the one in question is because at the moment, it seems that I am the one with the most recent inconsistencies. Want to know what that means? I am the one bearing the majority of the confusion. Ever tried to do something right- screwed it up and then tried to fix it, only screwing it up worse? Ever thought you understood something and acted upon it, only to find out that the thing you thought you knew was entirely different? Wake up and smell the espresso. What goes on inside your head Privilege? What list of variables are checked and counted when you decide to do or not do a thing? What process do you employ to choose your friends, choose your words, choose your mood, choose your reactions... what goes on Privilege? Or is this just one great big singularity issue. Does nothing else matter- has nothing else occurred, and is this merely the question of... Why? Why this, why now, why you? Why me? Good question. Very good question. I'm human. And I'm not fourteen any longer. A great deal has changed. In me, in her, in everyone. You! I've never heard such a useless expellation of mindless swearing. Talk about losing pride in yourself! Her as well! Freaking everyone!
"John, like that even begins to compare to what you've done."
Maybe it doesn't. Maybe none of that matters in the blinding contrast. Pardon me while I again try to fix something, salvage what there is left, and start over, making something better. I've apologized, and it was sincere. The remainder of you? It gets worse and worse and worse... People rot Kyle. And I'm tired of smelling the corpses. I have been hanging out with the wrong crowd. And it seems that every time I interact with them, everything goes to hell. My fault, their fault, who gives a flying flip? It happens. Welcome to life. I can only conclude, based upon this... consistency, this repetitive synchronous predictability of disaster- that I am incompatible with these people. You, her, almost all of them. I remain compatible with myself. There... no one gets hurt. In that spirit, I recede. I am close only to myself. I'm sick of hurting people and I'm sick of getting hurt. I thought I had resolved it in finality when I wrote her the letter, unchaining her from the ball that held her in "prison" . I let her go because she was in love with someone else. She went ahead and said she still loved me... Which was a lie. That I discovered a few days later, as she and Richard spoke. Like I said- I would rather have stumbled into a room where they were having sex than know what that conversation said. It was like watching my own body burn, in the midst of excruciating pain, I was still fascinated by the way the skin blackened and curled, sizzling and popping and juicing while consumed in the flames. I thought it was over... I thought I'd give one last attempt at honor, and something of nobility before this hellyear closed. And then I found that all I had done was save her the time and brainpower of having to concoct a lie that would get me away from her. Which she did anyway...
What goes on in my mind Privilege? Wow... a lot of things. A lot of little things that don't line up quite perfectly. Confusion... retribution, betryal, hatred, regret, regret, regret. I wish you-know-who the best of luck. And give my most sincere pity. For when he pours gold down her throat only to gain an inch of trust- and all the while trusting with his whole heart, and losing the inch he gained because a pretty girl walks past and the breeze she made waves in his hair... I'm out. I just want out. My regard to everyone I once knew. I'm not going to say anything that hurts anyone anymore. I'm not going to say anything at all.