Benevolence's Curse

[MessengerOfDreams]

It's at that moment you realize that your darkest suspicions, your fears, were right. The thing you tried to deny, tried to fix when you weren't thinking about it, it still was there, rearing its ugly head. Your naivete.

You realize at that moment that you are not nearly as together as you thought. Not as cool, not as strong, not as together. Of course, you knew this all along but denied it. You always support others, the others you care about, that you carry it everywhere and never ask for anything in return. And you do carry it everywhere. Even to those who don't need it, you carry all your passion, your optimism, your care and love everywhere.

And just as you always feared, you were naive. Overwhelming. Scary. But not the frightening Jigsaw-slash-Final Destination-slash-Colin Farrell in Fright Night type scary in those movies you never watch. You're scary because you pour everything you feel onto that one person, and it scares her.

And now here you are. The park looks lovely today, and you have to admit the weather is nice, but you just wish you were back at home, screaming and sobbing into your pillow like you do once in awhile and then forget about and morph back into your Kenneth Parcell type attitude. Because now you can't help but question everything about yourself. You did every now and again, but now everything comes to light and you've got to sort through the ♥♥♥♥.

You have so much faith in humanity. You're blinded by optimism. The cup's not just half full, it's full to the brim with the purest water God has to offer. You don't see the stains of dirt and backwash of the murderers, the greedy, the horrid people. You believe everyone has a chance, everyone can change, and you can't quite figure out when someone's either ♥♥♥♥ or ♥♥♥♥ you over.

Goddamn optimism. Traitor.

Of course, no one broke it except for you when you realize you suffocate others with it. And at that moment you feel like the fully Autistic retard stereotype you try to avoid being, not the strong, exuberant, oh-my-look-what-he-accomplished-as-an-autistic-kid-what-an-exception person you are. You're naive. In your own world. You shut the world outside and just focus on what you have. And you never feel regret for the bad things that have happened because you obsess over the good.

And you feel every bit as bipolar as you are. Balance is a myth with you. You're either fully in love with life or you're telling it to ♥♥♥♥ off. Those rare moments you don't spend being an optimist you spend being the world's strongest fatalist. You've now realized that your overwhelmingly happy side is just as scary as those moments of rage you never want to talk about, ever.

Now you've found your sister's birthday party. Great. Now you can feel these emotions at one of the 8 happiest days of your sister's life, the other 7 being her other 7 birthdays. You put on a smile because you don't want to ruin it for her. First things first, though. When everyone's not looking you find a tree, recline, stare at the sky and scream as quietly as you can.

Goddamn optimism. ♥♥♥♥ naivete. ♥♥♥♥ exuberance.

♥♥♥♥ benevolence. Goddamn ♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥ benevolence.

You cuss to your heart's content, because that's all you can do. You can't formulate ways to deal with it right now. You just unleash a barrage of obscenities that would embarrass George Carlin because that's all you can do.

You're an idiot. How did you not see it? How did you not have a clue? You're so focused on everyone else that you can't even look in on yourself. Everything about you is pleasing others. Making others like you. Being the best friend to everyone, loving everyone, even if they don't need it. Don't lose yourself, please don't ever lose yourself, you told her, but you failed to see that you were so far gone at that point.

♥♥♥♥.

You sit on the park bench with jubilant and chaotic family members, with a smile. You can't tell if that smile's fake or not, because you are happy for your sister that you'll leave your own suffering by the wayside for now. It's habit.

Behind the smile you're still trying to figure this out. You pinpoint every place that you've gone over the top, forgiven the people who didn't need it. Told yourself how rude it was to be carrying everyone's troubles that they seem to do nothing about because, hey, they're troubles, and not your fault. Reassured her that she was brilliant and meant so much to you when it was just so overwhelming because she had fifty other things to deal with.

And you do admire her. You can't help it. She was brave. She was the only one to see through my porcelain smile and tell me that something was up. And she pleaded to the Lord that she didn't hurt her. I insisted that she helped me. I didn't tell her that she did hurt me, because it was necessary.

This is all so much, so you take a party favor, the one that blows a big kazoo like noise and pops that whatchamacallit out like a jack in the box. You blow into it as hard as you can cause it's the closest you get to screaming. The others laugh, of course, because you look so goofy but they know it's okay because you do stuff like that all the time. Your cousin says you should do it again. You think Well, if you want to hear some anguished screams, sure, and then scream again.

By the time you finish, you've blown off some steam and self hatred, but you have enough to think of some common sense. You know things need to change. You're not that bad; you're a brilliant artist. You've created stories that have made people feel powerful emotions. You can create stunning visual art, and Tigie was telling you what a brilliant musical mind you had. And you always thought Tigie was cool, so that really reassured you.

But all the skill and prowess in the world wouldn't mean a thing if you were so stupid and naive that you slowly but surely killed yourself off into a miserable robotic heap who can make pretty things. And you know that's where you draw the line.

You're reminded of a quote that you think could help you out a bit but maybe it just sounds cool.

You're waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you can't know for sure.

And you think. You hope the train doesn't go too far but enough to make a change. You hope the train will help you solve things, but it's such a risk, that you can't know for sure.

You're relaxed at the party, somewhat, and you're liking it here. But you can't help but think that it's the calm before the storm. The heaven before the hell.

The cafe, with a large steamer and the spoon so that way you can scoop the foam and eat it, before the train that will take you far away, to where you hope you go but you're not sure you'll go to.

But maybe you'll make it out alright.

That's always the first thought, and you can't help but wonder if it's that goddamn optimism showing up again. You can't tell now where to draw the line of balance that you'd probably break but hey it's good to have a boundary type of line.

Eventually, it's time to open the presents. Your sister grabs yours first, and that genuinely warms your heart. It doesn't seem filtered or routine, it's natural. Back to your roots.

She opens it to see exactly what she wanted the whole time, and she jumps up and down as if she had gotten an adrenaline shot. She jumps onto you and hugs you, and you're happy. Genuinely happy, amid her manic giggles and her grateful stream of I love yous.

Maybe you'll make it out alright. Like ♥♥♥♥ Gregory always told his mama, "We'll be alright, mama, we'll be alright."

Somehow, I think I'll be alright.