The smile is sour

subconsiosly
It’s an abstract type of feeling. It’s a conflicting state of mind. I want to stay in my shell, but the advisers on the internet tell me otherwise. They tell me that I should be more open. They tell me that success comes to those who grab it by the neck.

The other side of the internet tells me that I should “be myself.” That I don’t need to be so open, because nothing of substance will be learned anyways. They tell me that highschool is ephemeral, that I should put no importance on it. They tell me that it’s all pointless in the end; that living as a hobbit somewhere in the woods will make me happier.

The pickup artists advocate the opposite. They tell me that I should be fucking as many bitches as I can, and to be suave to every single person that I pass by. They tell me that the best things in life come from sex, manipulation, and a healthy dose of alcohol. They tell me that I should be seizing opportunity by the ass.

Hard times ahead for moderate viewpoints.

“If you’re not on my side, you should be gunned down on the street.”

Like the indecisive child that I am, I can’t do anything but nod and smile. When the guy I sit beside starts talking about “plebeians and their trifles,” I can only smile in return. He probably thinks that I have no idea what he’s talking about. He knows I’m not an outgoing guy, but he doesn’t know the extent of my beliefs. He doesn’t know that I share most of his “crazy-ass ideas.” He just knows that I don’t respond with anything but a smile, and an “Oh really” every so often.

I don’t know what they think about me now. If you take away the test scores, what do you get? If you take away all of the “dark and gloomy thoughts,” do I still have personality? Do I have value beyond a cheerleader on the sidelines?

“I might not agree with you, but I’ll support you either way.” Is that what I am? Lady liberty?

“I am on the side of justice.”

I’m like a canvas that you can’t draw on. I’m just a blank slate of hope. One pair of hands clapping in a sea of applause. You only see me if you really want to. You only bother if you have nothing better to do. If my style appeals to you, you might just browse the same forums that I do. You might just go on the same websites, and see the same posts. My pants are well-fitted, yeah? My jacket looks nice. My shoes are cool. I look cool.

But I don’t have anything else to give you. I have nothing beyond my skill at calming people down. I believe that the inherent value of a person is determined by how nice they are to be around.

I like being around myself, but I can begin to feel the narcissism acting up again.

 

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