I must make this clear, I am a relatively angry person. Some of it admittedly is a result of others, but mostly I am angry with myself. Not for a lack of confidence or an overwhelming feeling of self doubt, quite the contrary. It is because I AM confident, some would say borderline egotistical. Weird right? My outer shell does exude a bit of silliness, a dash of dorky with a healthy spoonful of inquisitive. The first impression of me is usually, “Wtf?” When I asked some of the closest people to me to say with only one word how they saw me, honestly the consensus was “Asshole”, which apparently had to do with me being opinionated, loud and not very bashful. Every time I heard them say it, I kind of chuckled because knowing the person who said it, I knew what they meant. Yet, I still had them explain it because curiously, they all had different reasons as to why they said it.
I am not upset, angry, or anything of the sort. I do not hold contempt for them, not even in the slightest. I love them for it. The English/American language, for all of it’s words, at times is limited for most. Not everyone has the gift of gab or a stranglehold on the platitude of words available to explain exactly what they meant. On top of that, most don’t think of things such as explaining a person with a single word, it’s a tough exercise. I am also not one to make excuses, so believe me or not, I am very happy with their responses.
I, on the other hand, can describe things and do so in such a way that it’s often misinterpreted. It is and has always been my desire to be able to do so, mostly because of the beauty that can come from the proper arrangement of otherwise meaningless words. I methodically phrase things depending on the reaction I wish to illicit, may it be shock or deep thought. Yet, in the court of public approval, there are always objections.
Strangely enough, the objection is never in the form of outright disrespect. It is almost always as a result of misunderstanding. Often, it is only how I am choosing to express myself, a minuscule portion with disregard for the scope of how I truly feel. Other times, I pour my heart into it, which ironically are the shorter writings. Hell, I could write about a t-shirt and make it sound like the love of my life or a trip to the bathroom as a life changing experience (which can be after certain foods =P).
As a result of this misunderstanding, I find myself objecting my desires. My desire to tell them how I feel in a medium they are capable of accepting without lemming off the cliff of judgement through knee jerk reactions. I have failed myself in the regard that I was unable to communicate in such a way that could be reciprocated. I know this is no fault of my own, but that’s why it’s my desire and not my reality. It will be someday, I know that with all my heart, but until then…I am here.