Before I get started, I want to thank each and everyone of you for the birthday wishes, and the continual compliments…they mean more than you know. As a whole, my birthday was alright. I ended up being alone during the night, and I basically celebrated the evening portion by myself, because everyone who was SUPPOSED to be with me backed out. I got drunk, but I also called it an early night, because if I stayed out any longer by myself, it would have become depressing. It’s over now, and as one of you said on my last post, too much expectation is put on how a birthday should go. It’s cool, I’m here, and now it’s time to give you what you came here for…
We Can Make Each Other Happy: How To Love The Selfishness Of A Deliberate Man. Dedicated to girldisrupted
I write to you every day because I am in love with you. I am your slave, I am your agent provocateur, I am the lover you swear to have never touched, yet the strings of words I put together caress you like an unseen hand. This is the crux of a writer’s seduction. I seduce you with words, the writer in me demands a reaction, and he knows how to get it. I am in love with you, because I demanded you love me. But I had to give you a reason…
How did I do that? How does our relationship work?
Many people believe that they will gain friends and influence by banging a drum all day about how great and flawless a person they are. They show you all the best parts of themselves, and then they try to instill a belief system in you that they represent the ideal, and because of that, you must love them. I used to buy into that. I felt that if I gave someone a list of all my superior qualities, that they would have no choice but to fall in line.
How could you do anything else?
As a writer, I realize that couldn’t be farther from the truth. People bond not because of their differences, they bond because of their similarities, the common threads of existance that hold us all together…even hold us down. I don’t want you to love my arrogance, my hubris, my inflated qualities…that is not why I spend time every day writing the same love letter to you, with different words.
I want you to love me because of my flaws, the same flaws that you have. I am empty just like you are empty. When you lay in bed, hugging a pillow, wishing that was someone else who actually means something, I’m doing it too. I ask the questions you ask, or are even afraid to ask. I am a deliberate man. Deliberate in my actions, and deliberate in my words.
Writers, good writers are more aware than they are happy. If I was completely fulfilled as a person, I wouldn’t need to write, I wouldn’t need to reach out to you, each day, every day…pain, frustration, emptyness, sadness, and envy are the writer’s fuel.
You are my audience, and not only do I love you, I lust after you. This page is my stage to expose every part of me that is flawed. My life has the scartissue of bad decisions, tragedy, happiness, and everything else imbetween. When I come on stage, each time I come on stage, I hope to connect with one of you. When I talk about who I have slept with, the wrongs and the rights I have committed, it isn’t to brag, or boast…it is to serve as a reason for things being right or wrong, the effects of a life lived poorly.
You express your love for me by coming back, you express it in every compliment, every time you agree…or even disagree. This is our dance.
I absolutely want to do this for the rest of my life. I want to write, and I want others to be able to read it. When I write, and it touches someone, that makes up for all the nights when there is an empty space in my bed. Everytime you mention me to someone else, you return the love I give to you. That is my deliberate need for celebrity. It isn’t about the money, or the big houses, it’s more personal than that for me.
I want you to let me into your lives. I need each and every one of you.
I want the world to know who I am, and this is how it begins. And it’s not about how many people know me, I’m not interested in the collective. I want you on an individual basis, I want to know that I have touched you in some way, when you needed it.
It’s my desire to be known, to be loved the world over. To do that, I have to continue to be deliberate, no matter where it takes me. I want to take you all with me, so you can see what I see, feel what I feel, because this is a writer’s duty. It’s my committment to you.
girldisrupted put it best when she said, “Why do we want people to read what we write? Validation? Sympathy? Recognition? My answer is it’s everything. It’s waking up in the morning knowing that someone read what you wrote and said to themselves “I see myself in that.” It’s waking up in the morning knowing that my words made a difference. It’s waking up in the morning knowing that I touched someone, somewhere that I don’t even know. It’s waking up in the morning knowing that I made a difference…”
This is for you, because I need it to be. This is not my page…this is YOUR page. All this belongs to you, and only the mistakes are my own.
True love cannot be explained any simpler…