i love talking and i hate sneaky bastards

Those who know me will realize that i love talking. Im not a wonderful conversationalist, sadly, because of of my social retardity and lack of wit. But given a person strapped in a chair with eyes taped open - i could probably talk to them to death. They'd die of bad conversation or boredom or both.

Talking rarely gets me anywhere. Not to bright, i'm limited talking of happy, simple everyday things. Simply said i talk more than i do.

My procrastination is killing me; this usually because of the 'talk more than do'. I say things and hell, i never get them done. It will kill me one day and more painfully than rusty poles stuck into my abdomen. I'm try my best to work around it, but somehow, i fall into the trap time and time again.

So far im lucky that there are always people to catch me, kick my ass and get me going. It's not gonna last and they're not gonna be there forever. One day i'll fall, hit my head real hard on the landing and die of a subarachnoid haemmorrhage.

Im sneaky bastard; and i hate myself, so saying that i hate sneaky bastards is not a contradiction. Its worst when they're sneaky bastards i think i can trust, people i spend time with and talk to. I trust these people, i have long, albeit boring conversations and i was just beginning think that they'll bother to talk to me about something that may affect me (a lot).

Then they do something, quickly, quietly, and serve me up with an ultimatum. What's even better was that i was made to look like the idiot because of my fucking procrastination. What's brilliant (i can appreciate a good sneak, even if im the victim) is that they know they have the upper hand. The ploy perfect. Sneaky bastards. Damn it.

Im not a very good victim- Lets use a Jaws analogy (not that im a vicious sea creature on the top of the food chain). As the shark, i see a shadow on the surface and take a nibble, and realize that this is not the yummy seal i thought it was, its a chubby human thigh. Humans taste vile to sharks and so they usually let go, and the shark attack victims dont usually get eaten, they die of blood loss (clinical shock). Fooled by the sneaky fat human thigh, the shark will trash, make waters murky and generally make a mess. I do that when i get duped- not make people bleed, but bitch and whine liberally to anyone who stand within hearing distance for longer than 3 seconds. Im not very good at getting back at people- my memory's too short for revenge. So i murk out waters as much as can while i remember and let people manage through the mess. In most cases people dont care and dont realize that ive been bitching about them for hours.

The shark analogy is rubbish.

But my memory is not as bad as i think it is. I do remember the grievances, its just that i carry them inside. My core's all rotten with bad thoughts that have festered too long. In a year or two i'll get paranoid, think that the world is plotting against me and never leave my room.

over and out

lovies

huggies,

kissies and

a pout