Smarmoofus Spot

What can I say to make you understand?  I know what you want me to say, but since you’re so concerned with honesty, I won’t say that.  As difficult as it is for you to comprehend, I am happy.  I am complete.  I am at peace with the world and my place in it.  I don’t have to do anything, or know anybody, or think, or feel, or achieve the things you think are important for your life.  I have already accomplished what I needed to accomplish.  And I have had life figured out to my satisfaction for some time.

But that’s not good enough for you.  Instead of living your own life and leaving me alone, you insist that I should be unhappy, because you would be unhappy in my circumstances.  And you have gone out of your way repeatedly to try to make me unhappy.  You think I am a liar because I don’t display anger, sadness, or bitterness.   I don’t because I am not angry at my circumstances.  I am angry with you for telling me just how crappy I should be feeling.  You have insulted me time and time again, not just when you’re saying deliberately hurtful things, but when you express to me how miserable I should be feeling.  What you are saying is that my life is meaningless and that I am worthless, and I should just throw in the towel.  To that I have just two words for you.  Listen closely, because I’ll only say this once:  FUCK.  YOU.

Yes, I do wish I had been dealt a slightly different hand. But when you stop to consider the great accident that is everybody’s lot in life, you have to realize how absurd it would be to despair over a few details.  After all, it is only serendipity that put you in your family, in your country, your ethnic background, with your genetic makeup, and your socio-economic upbringing.  Fortunately for you, you did well in the sweepstakes of life.  Despite what you think, I feel I did fairly well, myself… not quite as well as you, obviously, but fairly well.  The difference between you and me is I appreciate what I have, while you are an angry, ugly, spoiled brat.

I could rail to your satisfaction against the Fates for putting the obstacles before me that I have faced, but what would that accomplish?  After I have shed all the tears you think I should shed to be “genuine”, I will still be me, and I will still be contained in this body, in this life, in this existence.  And in the end it is all going to just be gone, anyway…  So I decided a long time ago–long before you were born–that I would enjoy this ride as best I could in the vehicle I was given.  I’m in it for the journey, not the destination.  So stop slashing my tires!

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