Simmering Sussers

What is dignity? Something I’d made a decision on this year which is so far going both well and terribly is to be myself more. It turns out that this doesn’t work on Twitter and I ended up leaving because I decided to open my mouth and found it very, very easy to argue with either the something-phobic, whatever it was or people who have in their mind the caveman, or woman, or non-binary, whatever you fancy, notions of socialism in modern day society not having any kind of variation. Socialism to them was either “Socialism bad. Food good. Yum yum!” or that socialism instantly means a dictatorship. People you don’t know on social media when you’re happy to open your mouth and type aren’t very pleasant and whilst I’m not one to explode and continually reply, I found myself getting stressed and replying all too often.

When I think about it that is inevitable. I think I’d just had hoped that other people carried with them some open mindedness, maybe some kindness even if they were doing it ignorantly, or perhaps be willing to learn. Of course that sounds patronising and perhaps I do need to not be such a snob, but people there just seemed to get aggressive. Things so often become like Brexit — you might hear some convincing arguments for it before it happened, and they might well be valid concerns, but I don’t want to hear those arguments from a racist who enjoys making those points. I want to hear them from someone who is as human as I am who will listen to me and I them. It’s a silly example, really since we now know any positives were unfounded, but it’s so often the case that the worst of the worst are those that are the ones arguing with you. I found myself arguing with people about trans rights. Of course there have to be changes in society and of course when humans compete against each other it should be taken into consideration if a particular human being with certain qualities is going to have an unfair advantage but that doesn’t ever give you the right to mock them for who they are or how they are living. If there is an unfair advantage, then let’s look at how that issue can be resolved, but if you’re going to hold a prejudice and express it in a narrow minded way that makes you look like a child then you are not the person I would ever want to discuss it with, much less anything else. Vile people who jump on the bandwaggon of other people’s decent thoughts because it veers in the direction of their prejudice shouldn’t be allowed on social media. Well. I think there was less of them before Musk took over Twitter but I could be wrong, it coincided with me being myself more.

So! I was asking for trouble. Of course I can’t make anyone share my opinion and it sounds dictatorial, but if it’s going to allow for more freedom in this world to life then, sure, it would be nice if people held my open minded views, but they won’t and I can’t expect them to. So I should never have tried.

The reason I’m writing about all this is because I was thinking about signing up again but being less involved. I don’t know how to be more myself besides disregarding my usual cautious self. That to me is letting go and it’s all or nothing. With exception; someone I know has decided that animals don’t have feelings, including their pets and it just leaves me annoyed, astonished, probably many other things, but there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it and that person is in a position where if I cause too much trouble my life would then get difficult.

So what input is reasonable? Maybe I’m learning some balance. I called someone something along the lines of “completely fucking mad”. This person happened to be someone who saw trans people as dangerous and started talking about them going into women’s prisons and stuff. How do you control passion? I passionately think that trans people, whichever direction, aren’t the people to blame for the fact that society doesn’t know how to react. It makes their life far more difficult and I imagine many of those lives have ended too soon because of society’s small mind if they’re anything like gay people in that regard. To be me, I say what I think. I imagined a lot of people would appear to agree with me. But no, she and quite a lot of other people are also completely fucking mad and blame the people not society and unfortunately it’s people like that that slow the progression of society. I can’t believe, or empathise with, why they care. I think Twitter, for me, should be used in more of a monologue fashion. Quotes I believe in. Thoughts. Be strong, say what I want to say but never engage unless entirely sure. And…I’ve always felt like a lot of my character is hidden from a lot of people. Employers or just people I work with. That’s normal. So I think that should be a factor as well. But if you’re talking about some things, like sending victims of modern slavery to Ruanda, surely I can use such words as “cunt” or “fuck” when describing how terrribly unfair it is? Should I feel concern if other people read that before giving me a job? I honestly cannot tell. It’s true that I wouldn’t want to work with anyone entirely in favour of that policy anyway. But I do struggle to understand lines. And it’s actually something I like about myself as well as see that it can cause some stress within me because obviously I don’t want to fuck up social or professional situations because because my lines are invisible. Some people go one way and they say absolutely everything they think, which I wanted to do, but my default position is to be heavily, heavily guarded when it comes to showing people who I am or what I think. It’s an area of safety. Putting myself into more social situations is really hard because of these invisible lines. Maybe that’s the same for everyone, but I find it hard to believe it’s quite the same given that I’ll get stressed and then probably just say something inappropriate because it’s eating me from the inside out.

What else is dignity? Not moaning about things. Especially things that neither you or other people can change. I have to admit, I am guilty of that. I’m still getting to grips with the tiredness. I’ll write about it here but I know it’s affecting who I am and making me irritating. I get so damn tired I can’t do anything, I have plans, I can’t go for long walks as I was because I managed it the other day and it knocked me out for some time after. I feel like life is on hold. It’s true that you’re not going to have energy if you don’t eat properly or exercise but I can’t do those things so what should I do? I think eventually I’ll feel just better enough to start improving in those areas. I have to believe that. Last night, as so many nights go, I was shattered but I couldn’t sleep, I’ve got back and knee ache, headaches and I’m just so tired. There is nothing I can do. I can’t cook healthily like that, I can’t cook at all. I am going to have to try and sort out some food I can freeze when I’m feeling a bit better because I don’t know how else to sort that side of things out. Is this moaning? Probably in some people’s eyes, but fuck ’em. I’m still getting used to it and any stoicism I once had has gone out of the window. Ironically I think at times it does cultivate stoicism, it just takes some time because at times I think “I’m not going to moan. I feel fucking awful, but I can’t change it. I’ll just shut up and rest.” It gets pretty emotional. I find it takes less energy to sit here and write than it does to study or to play a game or even to watch a film. If I were writing a novel that would be different. Those other things can knock me out. I believe I’ve wasted my life and this is the icing on the cake.

There. I had to get that last bit in. But it’s how I feel. Dignity. Dignity is not always a choice. If you’re a dog and some cunt of an owner’s dressed you up as a bunny rabbit, what can you do? You can take back some dignity though; if you’re 120 years old covered in your own piss in an old people’s home you could decide to say “Yes. What of it? I’m 120 years old, what do you want from me?” and I think that makes sense.

Some of it relates to Brighton as well. Of course it does. I can’t think too clearly at the moment because of how tired I am but it was weird. To a degree, actually not even to a degree, I absolutely believed people where saying the worst things about me both above my head and outside. A lot of them too and for a very long period of time given that I was panicking. I’m sure you’re tired of seeing me mention it but it’s still controlling me so I don’t care. If you seriously believe that that is going on, and you seriously believe that people have that opinion of you, then you absolutely get defensive. Shame is handed to you from others. I knew and know I’m a nice guy — never trust anyone who says that, I know — but it’s true. I genuinely only want the best for people. Unless they piss me off. Of course at the time I’d have happily stabbed my neighbour if I thought I could get away with it. I wouldn’t, but I wouldn’t have been all that nice to him. I remember walking down the road telling myself I’m not the things that were said in time to my steps. I’m still not convinced this stuff didn’t happen and I have to know. It’s too important. This is useless to say. I’ve contacted Rory who was there at the time, on the other end of an email anyway, I’ve contacted everyone who currently lives at that address who will now all think I’m crazy and I’ve contacted the estate agent. The only people left to get back to me are Sussex police. Thinking about it they may have nothing to share; if someone had reported him, unless taking pity and divulging information like that for that reason is possible, they probably wouldn’t tell me. Yes I am obsessed.

I don’t know. I don’t know where I want to move to if not there. I’ve no real love for it but I have nowhere else I can think of. Maybe Bristol. I want the therapeutic effects of going there safely if only for six months.

I need to rest again. Tomorrow, from the time I get up, I will be listening to the meditation thing every two hours. I need to be able to say I tried on Thursday. Somehow it’s been really hard to feel like meditating. I’ve just felt ill. I know it’s there to help, but forming habits takes energy. Poor fatigue people…

I am so bored. That’s the silly thing. Wasted life, yet bored. I want to join groups! I wanted to do all this in my early twenties! Why didn’t I? I was in a job everybody told me to keep. If you keep the job you have to live around the job. I know, I just wasn’t grown up enough not to listen to people. Then I did, psychotic episode, potentially, I leave, new job in Bath, freak out, bad job people too, move to Bournemouth psychotic episode, move to this place, psychotic episode but now things seem calmer. Maybe I was growing into being me all along.

I’m going to fuck off now. I can’t talk about you because I don’t know you and I have to be self-centred because I don’t have any energy for hobbies. I think a big part of not breaking out of this life besides the above is the foggy head which maybe booze but at the moment it’s just plain old fatigue.

Same old me. Same old text.

Look after yourself.