Blade Out, Turned Inward, For You

To those of you who follow me on the various social media: you’ve come to expect that most of the personal, introspective, realistic things I post are self-deprecating jokes, right? I can speak something serious, something plain and direct, but in the comments, you’re joking because you think I’m joking. Right? OK. So here’s a fucking joke for you:

Question: How do I talk to pretty girls?
Answer: I DON’T.

Go ahead. Laugh. I fucking dare you.

I might actually be hurting inside and completely alone, but that’s fine with you, right? As long as I make you laugh, it’ll be alright. Right? My loneliness is funny.

This is why I don’t say anything when I’m torn up inside. You don’t take me seriously. Do you ever have a moment where you say, “But he didn’t call for help. I thought he was doing OK. It was a joke, right?” This is that. Fuck you. You’re welcome.

You have all the answers. So do I. I’m not looking for your answers. I’m not looking for any answers at all. I’m looking for your empathy. I want to know I’m not alone. So many times I want to say something, but I don’t, because you have an opinion about what I should be doing. Well so do I. Your opinion doesn’t matter. This isn’t a game. Nobody’s keeping score. It’s not about the nail in my forehead. I know it’s there. I just want to know I’m not alone. Seriously. Reach out to me.

For once in our lives, reach out to me.

2 thoughts on “Blade Out, Turned Inward, For You

  1. Chard

    Dude! I’ve really liked the posts about your radio adventures, which is not to say I don’t like this post, but is a different sort of post. I tend not to post much of anything on social webs. I appreciate the knife-point, visceral quality of your blogging. I’ve been where you’re at. I’m in a different spot now, and not a better spot, just a different spot. I try to be all Buddha about it: suffering comes from our mind, but mind says, “fuck that” more often than not.

  2. ShawnShawn Post author

    Thanks for your kind words. This is a long-form edition of an FB post. Funny that I feel more free to cry out here where there’s no social filters, no algorithms, no protections, than to do it on FB where everybody and their dog feels like they have a say and two clicks to say it. It’s a reaction to modern life, my modern life. Heavy stuff going on inside, and nobody is any the wiser; they just laugh it off because I’ve conditioned them to laugh it off. Suffering is in the mind, yes, I believe you. But it’s an answer; I have those aplenty. I don’t need answers, I need empathy. I hope you’re doing well these days; keep up the updates.

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