I would like to thank all of you:  my friends, my non-existent enemies, my ex-girlfriends, my future girlfriends, and most of all, all of you whom I have never met and never will meet.

I say most of all to the strangers because we’re saving ourselves some time.  You see, I’m a strict believer in the fact that we will never know anyone other than ourselves, and most of us seem to be rather unfortunate in that respect as well.  Everywhere I’ve been, and I’ve been to many places, I’m constantly encountering the same people over and over.  I suppose this should serve as proof that regardless of race, color, creed, and religion, we’re all just people.  Great.  Fine.  Dandy.  But as it pertains to this entry, I find most of you people rather boring.  I mean that in the least offensive way.  I’m sure many of you feel the same way about me.

Like you, I give off “the basics”.  You ask me meaningless questions, and I give you equally meaningless answers.  You say “hello”, I say “goodbye”.  Time passes, and throughout this time we have spoken often.  Perhaps we enjoy each other’s company.  Perhaps our relationship escalates to wonderfully carnal experiences.  Then we assume to really know each other, for now we “know” each other in the biblical sense.  All the while, there are THOUGHTS we’ll never share.  For those of you who live by the ridiculous mantra of “I have no secrets, no regrets”, to you I shall say and assertively assume, “You have not yet lived enough”, or I’ll say, “You’re delusional.”

Most likely, you’re one of the people I mentioned above who has yet to fully come to grips with exactly who and what you are.  It’s understandable.  Self-discovery has to be one of the most difficult rites of passage known to mankind.  And to think that this step in our lives can be so easily set aside, while at the same time having the audacity to declare we know anyone else, is a common occurrence.   It is a common occurrence, and a terrible flaw.  It speaks volumes about where we are as an “intelligent species”, capable of many great, (and sometimes greatly terrible), actions.

The expression of these THOUGHTS I mentioned before fall under the category of honesty.  And as is our custom, regardless of locale and culture, “honesty is the best policy”.  However, because so few of us are actually brave enough to live by these words without fault, the cycle of dishonesty continues, and shall continue.  I’m no better than any of you.  I do the same thing.  On occasion, my honest opinion will seep forth past the veil of what is “decent”;  of what is “kind”;  of what is “appropriate”, and I’ll honestly share something that could possibly tear the fabric of any kind of relationship.

Who wishes to cause these tears?  Not many of us, and I’m one of you.  So day by day, I watch my words, and I keep a leash on my total honesty.  It keeps our relationships intact, but on a terribly superficial level.  This is our downfall as a “civilized people”.

Is there a solution to this problem?  Sure, and the answer is obvious, but how many of us will actually be brave enough to take the steps necessary and lead by example?  Very few of us, and because of this…

Nobody Really Understands Anybody”.
This blog was inspired by a Venetian Snares track of the same name.
Venetian Snares

5 responses to “NRUA

  1. I love youor honesty though…when yuo tell me “every guy you have ever dated are all dicks” you just say what I am afraid to say….
    you need to call me


  2. Generally,we walk around telling half truths…afraid we will hurt those we claim to love and afraid that those we love won’t love us back if they see the real us.

    Hope you had a great b-day!


  3. Thanks for doing a 180 degrees on your last post about honesty. You’re right, the interesting tidbits are in the belly lint. I love wince inducing people-cruft myself. Peel it all away until we’re raw. No secrets.


  4. How many times have you been accused of being insensitive and careless with your words? we’re supposed to walk around on eggshells; and people like us just don’t know how to adapt.


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