the good

I am really a jerk.

I kind of keep this file cabinet in my mind on people, each with their own folder. I scrutinize mannerisms, lifestyles, characters, childhood histories, possible conditioning factors, social impacts, and come to what I deduce as logical subconscious causalities—tabs on almost everyone I know, no joke.

But I don’t know anything. Someone said Walk a mile in someone’s shoes—that’s a lie, everyone has their own feet and own walk and own shoes.

This guy says it better.


I’ve become this thing that compartmentalizes people into who I construct them to be. I am such an idiot, an amazingly blind and proud one. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know myself.

Someone said If you look for the bad in people expecting to find it, you surely will. This weekend I was hit with the reality that I do look for the bad expecting to find it—someone I thought I knew, but really I didn’t know at all.

Someone also said It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see. All I’ve looked for is the bad I expected.

Even though I blind myself, I need to see the good, the good in people, the amazingly crazy people, the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and watch the glow and listen to the pop and listen to them and love.