Meat Phoenix

I've spent the last six months desperately trying to reconfigure my personality into that of a kinder, friendlier person who means well for everyone. Trying to be nice, basically. I believe this was a defensive measure after having an insanely stressful time living with my sister over the Summer. I'm sure to some it might seem like a chivalrous sensible decision but after the shitshow that was leaving my apartment a few weeks ago I've come to a conclusion some people might find juvenile and others might even be hoping for.

I'm not a nice person.

At my core I'm a very mean, blunt, conniving jackass. I am the solid black turd of porkchop constipation making the monday morning after an emotionally tense sunday dinner that much more difficult. I am not selling myself short when I admit I am a nasty, coarse prick.

But over the last half year all of that feigning kindness wasn't digging out the old seeds and planting new ones, but burying the well fed earth of a personality in genetically engineered golf sod with an oft forgotten 'DON'T TREAD ON THE GRASS IT WILL GET PISSED' sign still lingering. This epiphany that covering up what I am with what a group of pseudointellectual know nothings that I sought to hide myself amongst took making the adult leap to rectify the situation on my own terms without erupting into a gibbering furious mess. I sorted things out with these people, gave them one more shot (despite declaring I never would) and realized that they were never my kind of people to begin with. They never really 'got' me so I adjusted myself to suit their needs.

I see this as an act of unintentional cowardice I'll be kicking myself for quite some time over, which at the very least taught me that there is no way I could drown out who I am inside without it making its way back out of my subconscious kicking and screaming and taking control of things the way it knows they should be.

I like you people. You're an interesting crowd. But pretending that I can suddenly be nice is just silly. People like me for being clever and funny but also for being caustic and acting through hyperbole. Doing such a heel face turn for the sake of temporarily feeling better is foolish.

Bettering myself is always on my to do list. Whether it be reading more, learning a new song or just taking a bit of time to stop and think before I act. However, playing at being a different guy is no better for my overall well being than repainting an exploded car. It looks nice on the outside, but what do you do about the burnt skeletons fused to the chassis? Not much, I can tell you from experience.

So here is Mac Sirloin, rising out of the crunchy burnt bacon ashes of some guy who wanted a bunch of boring philosophizers he lived with to like him and giving a good firm glare at the twitching whateveritwas that he was encased in before.

Go fuck yourselves, have a nice day.