Here's how it works for most of us, as far as I can tell. I'll even put it in list form, because who gives a fuck at this point:
1. At an early age, you start hating yourself. Often it's because you
were abused, or just grew up in a broken home, or were rejected
socially, or maybe you were just weird or fat or ... whatever. You're
not like the other kids, the other kids don't seem to like you, and you
can usually detect that by age 5 or so.
2. At some point, usually at a very young age, you did something that
got a laugh from the room. You made a joke or fell down or farted, and
you realized for the first time that you could get a positive reaction
that way. Not genuine love or affection, mind you, just a reaction --
one that is a step up from hatred and a thousand steps up from
invisibility. One you could control.
3. You soon learned that being funny builds a perfect, impenetrable
wall around you -- a buffer that keeps anyone from getting too close and
realizing how much you suck. The more you hate yourself, the stronger
you need to make the barrier and the further you have to push people
away. In other words, the better you have to be at comedy.
4. In your formative years, you wind up creating a second, false you
-- a clown that can go out and represent you, outside the barrier. The
clown is always joking, always "on," always drawing all of the attention
in order to prevent anyone from poking away at the barrier and finding
the real person behind it. The clown is the life of the party, the
classroom joker, the guy up on stage -- as different from the "real" you
as possible. Again, the goal is to create distance.
You do it because if people hate the clown, who cares? That's not the real you. So you're protected.
But the side effect is that if people love the clown ... well, you know the truth. You know how different it'd be if they met the real you.
martes, 12 de agosto de 2014
jueves, 7 de agosto de 2014
El pétalo. La forma y su enseñanza.
Hay fortaleza en el reconocimiento de la debilidad. No es la mediocridad lo que te condena, es el engaño del que se disfraza, la sombra que viste, esa duda en tu cabeza. Murmurando que se puede; cuando el alma, agotada, se usa de alfombra.
Nos quedan por ver demasiados anexos de nuestros defectos como para llamarnos conocidos. Pero día a día leemos un pie de página nuevo, en el cual nos maravillamos y nos vemos tan sabios y arrogantes como para ignorar nuestra antipatía.
Somos ante todo, seres pasionales. Fuimos.
Seamos.
Nos quedan por ver demasiados anexos de nuestros defectos como para llamarnos conocidos. Pero día a día leemos un pie de página nuevo, en el cual nos maravillamos y nos vemos tan sabios y arrogantes como para ignorar nuestra antipatía.
Somos ante todo, seres pasionales. Fuimos.
Seamos.
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