I hate that people always come attached. You can never have your people just to yourself. It’s not that I don’t understand it, but more that having a circle of your very own entails a lot more trouble than anyone ever lets on. If you like one person, you eventually have to deal with their people on some level. If you express a dislike for your friend’s attachments, it quickly becomes a problem. Getting a friend on their own is never easy; human beings have this insane web of interconnected people, a network if you will. You take a liking to one, and consequently have to deal with the others at some point or other.
Friends rarely make it easy for honesty. People are backstabbing assholes, which means that sharing confidences with them is generally entirely out of the question. I’ve been blackmailed so many times that it’s become an ongoing joke to me. My Satanism is a dark secret I don’t tell anyone. People have a way of blocking your path when they get wind of something like that. It’s not that I don’t believe my ‘friends’ are capable of being accepting, quite the contrary; I picked them for their openmindedness. In fact, I know one in particular that might take it very well, to the extent that she would likely want to participate, however, I am wary of letting go of any of my guarded secrets. It can be used as a weapon against me, and that is one thing I will not tolerate or allow.
A little mystery is good for people. I prize honesty, but there is a difference between honesty and stupidity. Letting a possible enemy know anything important about you is never a wise decision. Inevitably friendships either burn out with a fight and result in less than favorable results, or fade out and cease to matter. But in either circumstance, resentment is easily found. All those secrets are suddenly no longer restrained and forcibly kept by the bonds of friendship. Put that in the hands of someone with a penchant for manipulation, and suddenly you have the beautiful workings of blackmail. In other words, you’re fucked. Rumors spread, and no matter what means you use to quash them, the suggestion alone is damaging, proof or not.
But let us cut to the chase:
I can’t stand your son. God, he’s a fucking idiot. In fact, he is so irritating, predictable, and infantile, that I had to go into a long-winded speech when I got home about the degradation of humanity and how our male counterparts who aren’t gifted with the ever-fleeting intelligence of something smarter than a dung beetle, like to prance around pretending to be mechanics. And his taste in women is, well, borderline grotesque. Good god man, roaches crawl out from between those legs they are so infested! I expected slightly better from you. Not much, but better than that. Better than some weak-bodied know-it-all with the habit of ridiculous posturing. Bah. It wasn’t so much that I was disturbed by him, but by the fact that you spawned this god-awful creature. Ick. I would not tap it. Not even with a pole while it was tied down and screaming.
Anyway, the fact remains that I will not speak ill of him…in front of you. I never made any promises about trash talking in general, which, let’s face it, I’ve had a lot of practice in. I don’t give a shit about anyone, in case you couldn’t tell, and our relationship is entirely temporary, as all relationships are. I know what you did all that time ago. I know it was you. Yes, that’s right. I know ALL about it. I always get revenge. In fact, you got to taste a great deal of it awhile back. The magic of it all is that you didn’t know it was me. I hit hard, and I do it quietly, so next time you decide to fuck with someone higher in the food chain than you are, I suggest you cover your ass intelligently so as not to give me reason to slash your reputation to tatters.
Also, bear in mind you can’t have what’s mine. I’ll steal everything that’s yours, so don’t push me. I’ll make them hate you. So you can stand there and sneer down at me, and I’ll play my role, but in the end, no matter what your move, I’ve already won.
In the meantime, lets be friends or whatever. I love it when you’re my bitch and you make me dinner.