And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.

I just complained. For a good hour or so I complained about the things I’m annoyed by, and in doing so have come to a deeper understanding about why I’ve partitioned my life for so long. I’m very good at complaining. I can zero in on the one rough edge a thing has and turn it into a shard that sticks and twists into the gut of the matter until it makes you sick. I very rarely host bitchfests anymore, but when I hear that one is going on I will take any means necessary (even a greyhound bus) to attend. Because, generally speaking, bitchers tend to attract moaners, most of my relationships are with fellow complainers. So, while my initiation rate may have declined, my total amount of complaining has remained about the same. Since I don’t have much of an interest in politics or sports the bulk of my complaining is about other people. I spend a lot of time complaining to each person in my life about every other person in my life. And the final piece of the cubical that ties it all together; I have to keep all the people in my life away from each other so I can talk shit about anyone I please while maintaining a sense of security that what I say won’t get back to them. I now see the other side of the perfection coin I was laying down as a bet on why I keep all the areas of my life separate. They are tied together, tied to the fact that what I think other individuals want to see in me is someone who regards them above all else and the only way I know how to raise one thing up is to tear everything around it down. What is true for me now is that I want to leave this thinking and the behavior in the past, and at this point, though one might have been the cause and one the symptom, I cant work on getting rid of one while neglecting the other. I will never be able to squelch the need to be seen as perfect by others if I don’t stop complaining about them. This is going to be extremely difficult as the complaining is more like an addiction. If I was listing to the physical cues my body is giving me in this moment this entry would be very easily confused with the blog of a fourteen year old lamenting on how unfair life is. I, however, am going to do my best to be the twenty nine year old my drivers license says I am and allow the nausea of withdrawal wash over me as I contemplate how to act positively in the face of complaints. As I begin to take responsibility for the fact that part of the reason why so many people in my life don’t have any interest in getting along with others I know is because all I do is complain about that other person they don’t know. As I stay out of other peoples business, especially when it is brought to me. So… anybody wanna be my friend.