Slipping into Darkness

I know that I share a lot of details about myself. Sometimes the details seem pointless. Sometimes I say things that people cannot follow and so they dismiss these things as purely bollocks. Well, I have been trying hard to figure out what people see wrong with the way I share my thoughts. I do so much to fit in but I simply cannot. Not the way that I currently am. My mother raised an individual and a child that aimed to be the greatest man who ever lived. While her child may not be the greatest ever, I, will never stop trying. I get confused really easily. However, I try really hard to keep up with people. Sometimes, the way people communicate utterly circumvents any ability I possess.
I love to laugh and I try hard not to take myself too seriously but we all know how feeling as if the people around you could care less inspires rebellion in our gut. Anyways, I use that goofiness to get through these situations that try ever fiber of my character. It helps. Though, there are times that I feel like the little positivity that I possess is simply not enough to counter all of the anger and resentment looming inside of me. There appears to be no form of catharsis that will supply me with the necessary burst to get over myself. I mean, I judge people. Not necessarily for who they are but what they do. It is easier to forgive a person frozen to inaction than a person who makes a horrendous mistake. I haven't given of myself or my virtue so freely that a woman that has had 30 different men in her can label me "hers". I would feel underwhelmed with what I could mean to her. She could literally extend my life with an organ and it still would not budge me from the perception that she just didn't treasure her future husband enough to remain somewhat virtuous. I cannot be that person. To be completely honest, I cannot even fathom ten different men. It hurts my brain to visualize. I'd rather stay single and mean nothing to no one than to give myself totally to somebody who has shared their "self" with so many. I cannot be him for you if you are as the hypothetical woman is in my head. Call me lame. Call me stunted. Call me insecure and every other name. But does that then lace within my words the freedom to label you a whore, slut, jezzebelle or anything else to tarnish your character? Is that a solid point? I don't wish to define anybody else outside of what they CAN mean to me. I don't even do that a lot. When I did do that a lot, it felt weak and weird. I wasn't comfortable doing so. There is an odd feeling of power; a slight thrill from drowning somebody in hateful terms. I hate that feeling of power. I hate that thrill. It doesn't fit me well.