Sunday, May 18, 2014

I'm a great person. Or why I'm so awesome.

To wrap up my previous post, People I Wouldn't Befriend...

Just before you recycle that invitation you were writing me, take note that the friends I do have, or did have, forever hold a special place in my thoughts and in my heart. For a person that I truly and profoundly adore, it takes a long line of garbage to send me running. However, while I may have a notoriety for bolting at the first wave of a red flag, my sense of loyalty is actually iron-clad, and I mean that with every fiber that makes me human.

If I care about you, there is no end to the list of things I'd do. If it's 3am and you've just found out about your parent’s divorce, I'll be there. If it's New Year's Eve and some ass-hat is giving you trouble, I'd probably just end up being another victim, but I'll be there...bleeding, probably. If you're upset and you don't even want me there, I'll be there anyway, because I'm a creep. It's who I am.

To me, every person is unique, and that's indispensable. The friends I keep, I intend to keep forever.

History is harsh though. In my darkest days, not everything I did defined who I am. I was crippled by a pain and indecision that made me do things that only reflected my anger, not my heart. But that's the past. Today, my veins coarse rich with the purity of warm blood. I even care for people that have nothing to do with me. Need proof?

  • This passed month, I helped my lost bus driver. He took a left instead of a right and every turn he made after that was a wrong one! Meanwhile, there were five other people on that bus just watching while this poor guy was probably freaking out. Five people didn't get up, so I did. I put my laptop away and stood next to him for about five minutes until we were back on track. Not because I had work or class or somewhere to be. It was because he needed help and, like a hard-on for generosity that needs regular attention, I have a lot of help to hand out on any given day.

  • This passed month, I gave some dude ten dollars. He approached me on the street in distress while I was on my way to work. We spoke for a few minutes. He was very polite and apologetic. He spouted off some story about his car radiator and was complaining that there weren't any mechanics within walking-distance. I agreed. He asked for twenty dollars and promised that he would arrange to get it back to me. I gave him all the money I had - a ten dollar note - and joked with him that "I'm a charitable person, not a loan-shark." Why did I do it even though his story was maybe bullshit? Because regardless of authenticity, he was nice! And if I was ever in a pickle and I was nice, I'd like a fellow human being to help me too. Sometimes ten dollars can go a long way for somebody else, but for me, I would've just wasted it on garbage.

  • This passed month, like every month, I went to work. While that might not sound like much considering what I do, the only reason I show up is to help people. It really warms my heart when I know that I've lended a hand to someone in a profound way. I work for the help desk at a shopping centre. I get people who have trouble walking, people who have hurt themselves, people who are panicking because they think their car's been stolen or that somebody's taken their kid and even the lost kids themselves - I get it all, and I love that my job puts me in the position to help those people. It might explain why I haven't found a better job.

  • This passed month, like every month, I was a good friend. I wont go into detail, but it's because I love my friends and I care for each of them, no matter the level of friendship. That's why I'm picky with who I let in.

A lot of this may seem like bragging to you, and that's because it is. Why might you ask? Because I haven't done enough bragging in my lifetime. It seems I need to fill my bragging-quota. For years I sat silent while people scathingly called me an arsehole. That's because I simply didn't care for what I viewed as a narrow-minded opinion from people who knew nothing about me. In fact, I still don't care, because you see, I'm not writing this for me, I'm writing this for my friends - past, present and future.

I write this for the people I've met this year that may have the wrong idea about me. For the friend that has constantly felt like they've had to defend me in conversation. For my partner whom it kills when the word 'arsehole' is preceded by my name. This is for them, not for me and not for you.

For once I need to care more about how my perception might hurt my friend's feelings and less about how it doesn't hurt mine. You see, I am not an arsehole. Gospel.

Yeah, I may not be the greatest person you've ever met but, take it from the person who knows me best, I'm pretty fuckin' good.

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