Neither One Nor The Other

Personal post once again so you know the drill, less of a laugh but it tells you more about me as a person and for some reason this intrigues a lot of you, maybe the idea that underneath it all I’m a human appeals to you. I write the personal posts because this blog is a part of me, a reflection of who I am, and I’m not afraid to let you in to a certain degree because I need to let this out and you’ll either appreciate that and maybe offer some insight or you’ll be a twat, make some stupid comment and then hope I snap at you. I more than likely will defend myself but ultimately it is all pointless and neither you nor I gain anything beyond “Well, that guy’s a total cunt!”

I taught myself to read when I was a kid, before school or any form of education, I could read. I don’t remember how I learnt it but I just know that I wanted to read and when I looked at these words on paper, something clicked. I say this with no arrogance but as a child, I was brilliant and always three steps ahead of everyone to the point where I was grinning at my teachers as if to demand an actual challenge of them. Dad says I was like that since I was a toddler, having figured out how to undo the lock mechanism on my cot so I could get out because I wanted to. That was it as a kid, I wanted it so it happened and nothing would stop me. I used to get frustrated though, frustrated with my peers because whilst I was speeding ahead, they were waddling and I wanted to drag them forward and tell them how stupid they were being but you know people seem to object to having a hyper-intelligent seven year old call them an ape and beat them half to death with logic. Coupling the frustration of genius with the loss of loved ones and you have yourself one shocked head, who had a fierce temper and the strength in his fists to make that temper known.

In school, I was angry. I loved rage, it gave me power over the people that picked on me because they knew I was smarter than them, they hated it how I made these complex concepts into child’s play with this smug grin and so they tormented me about things I never paid attention to. I smelt of grease and oil, I wore cheap tacky clothing, I didn’t have a picture perfect family and my social skills were horrendous so those were my weak spots, a brilliant mind but almost no clear signs of a real soul. Ever seen Good Will Hunting? My mother apparently said I was Will Hunting, the inside of his head is a library of facts but mostly void of feelings, of human emotion and experience and for the best part of my life I didn’t understand why I needed it. So what if I can’t play football? I understood the rules, the mathematics, the history of it as well as anyone, perhaps better, but I didn’t see why that obliged me to play it, especially when I couldn’t play very well. I was detached from the world and only recently has that mattered to me. I didn’t understand that the boys at school didn’t play football to enjoy calculating penalty shots or to display their proficient skills in kicking a hollowed ball of rubber, they played it to bond with one another over a shared passion and to be friends. Looking at my hobbies as a kid, I didn’t enjoy anything you can’t do alone. Writing, reading, drawing, playing video games, being imaginative, dressing up. You can do that stuff alone but you can’t play football alone, can’t play cricket alone. I liked being alone, it was safe and it meant nobody could anger me and I never had to tone myself down to appear to be “normal”

I got past my anger, for the most part, and I settled down. I owe that to my family and friends and it was not easy. I attacked my Dad on several occasions, harmed myself a few times and broke several doors, chairs and people. I got past it and came to understand myself much better but I like to think I retained the passion. Some people used to like me even when I was the smelly sociopath and I wanted to be liked. I don’t know why or how it started but something within me drove me to be more human, to feel compassion and now I feel these emotions. You could argue that I don’t, that I emulate them to manipulate people for selfish reasons so that I can have sex with them or get money from them by posing as their friend, their lover, and yet I feel these things truly to the point where I miss them. If I am pretending to be a man who can feel love then I want to know why I can miss the experience of falling in love, or the idea of waking up to a smiling face rather than my phone telling me it’s 2PM. Logically speaking the choice to become more “human”, if you’ll pardon my phrasing, cost me dearly. Three steps ahead became two which became one which became nothing. In school, I did not do one single bit of revision by myself ever. Ever. Never sat up all night panicking about exams or making flash cards or doing mocks in my free time, I just did it. End result. A* in both English tests, A* in all science tests, A in Maths, A in History. I didn’t need to revise clearly and I guess it just stuck, all of it. I read my source materials and I knew everything I needed and had complex opinions on it all. To this day I could tell you all about ‘The Old Man and The Sea’ and how it is a biblical allegory written by a man who is clearly a genius but not a fiction writer by trade and all I’d need is a copy of the book in my hand and one evening in silence. Done.

College. I became a man driven by his emotions before his brain, I had them now. I had a range of proper emotions and I had social skills now. I could talk to people, talk to girls, make girls like me or want me, romantically or sexually, and I loved it. I had practised admittedly and had to grow up and learn still but I now had more friends than just “these are the people who don’t call me a smug arsehole when they see my face”. Admittedly, my later years of school saw this change starting but I became a kinder person by nature. I was never mean and vindictive but never selfless as a child, being kind had a purpose when I was little and it was usually to gain rewards such as praise or food. I grew up on a sticker-reward system as a kid, get enough stickers and I get a new toy or a picture of a steam train (I loved steam trains as a kid, never sure why) so that was what it was for. Needless to say in my college years, I never helped people with their revision in the hopes of getting stickers or pictures of trains for the bedroom wall. I wanted to help them because I got something else out of it, I enjoyed the sight of being smiled at, not a polite patronising smile that adults give to children, a sincere smile of gratitude. I will confess even now I get a buzz whenever someone expresses gratitude to me, it makes me feel useful. I like being useful, so much so that my efforts to be a good person cost me a lot of my intellectual superiority on an academic level. I finished college with D grades because I wore myself out and broke down into a volcanic eruption of emotions that consumed me for months. I do not regret the decision, I did what I did with good reason and between some silly pieces of paper to quantify my intellect and the loving smile of someone I gave everything for, I choose the latter every time.

I’m spinning my wheels at the moment, no job, no education to speak of and not much to my name but everyone I ever gave my all to help is off on their adventures and smiling. I like that, that makes me very happy because I know I played a part in that. However, I’m still not quite there, I’m not as emotionally intelligent as I could or should be but then I’m not as academically intelligent as I could or should be, I’m a jack-of-all-trades of intellect but a master of nothing. I was a boy who sought isolation as a child and is lonely as a man. My brain isn’t as acutely trained as it used to be, the memory span shorter and my concentration easily rattled but when I have a good day, I’m fast. I can deduce the root cause of a person’s problem and tell them the exact course of action they need to take but of course they don’t follow or get offended because it involves doing something that might be frowned upon by such and such a person and I want to scream at them. Mycroft Holmes in BBC’s Sherlock said something about living in a world of goldfish, a younger me described the world in a similar light as myself being the only person running in a sprinting race whilst my peers dragged themselves across the floor. I know that I’ll have friends who read this and will kick off saying
“So you think we’re all stupid do you? You grandiose tosser!”
And it’s not that, it’s not that at all, I’m just wired up differently and I get so angry because sometimes I just can’t click with other people and yet people who are like me usually go on to such great heights and here I am going nowhere whilst people I put up there are dicking about like drunk cripples on ice.

I don’t know what I was trying to say here but I have a keyboard, a head full of bees, a fierce mood and nobody is currently available for me to let this out with without me upsetting them or confusing them through miscommunication. I used to attend counselling sessions and probably would like to again but when my last counsellor did the handover and signed me on with someone new, I instantly decided this new guy wasn’t someone I could share my innermost feelings with. No offence to the guy, I’m sure he is a fine therapist but something felt off about him, maybe because he introduced himself by text instead of face to face and then asked me to meet him “on informal terms in a cafe of your choice”. That quickly rang alarm bells. I’m an odd customer, no doubts there and I do need help and I do need to find myself a new path seeing as academic education is no longer a good path for me but I just feel out of place. I was a genius, I was a lover, now I’m partlgenius and part lover but nothing exceptional at either of those things, seeing as I’ve been single for months and got nothing out of college other than memories and contact numbers.

Call it a sad cry for attention, maybe you even think that this is fitting for an unbearable son of a bitch like me but I never said I write these sort of posts for you and if all you take away from the open door into my head is yet more reasons to despise me, despise away. Love and hate are all passion, as I could quite easily tell you.


6 thoughts on “Neither One Nor The Other

  1. It seems that you were substituted extra brains and lost out on charisma and extroversion. I used to think I was the same but it turned out I was just dumb. There’s nothing really to say other than that you have just hit a rough spot in life and things will gradually improve over time. Retaking your A level exams will help, you should never have put those as second priority in your life in the first place…. – But then you’d obviously already know all this so why I am even saying this I don’t know. To you I must still be wet behind the ears. Absolutely sopping in fact.

    (And yes, The Old Man and the Sea is an amazing book).


    • I know it will and despite my whinging I’ll get up and get moving again, this blog just helps me to let off steam and for some people they seem to like reading it. I made illogical choices in the past but that’s that and I did the best I could given my circumstances. I would rather be a good person than a successful twat any day of the week but you can’t help but grumble sometimes hey? Haha

      (It really is quite clever, don’t know why people hated it so much – maybe because on a physical action of point of view, not a lot happens, but you have to read deeper to understand it)


      • I guess not, people usually feel more inspired to write when they’re unhappy anyway, at least it makes the crappy feelings to good use.

        (Because they have no compassion for such a poor elderly man who has nothing left in his life. That story is just so sad and it conveys the simple futile determination of a human being perfectly).


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