Torn.

I now realize that my last entry made me sound like a hypocritical asshole.  So here's a less whiny, allegorical, but still personal version of pretty much the same damn thing, and then some.

Three years since I've left home, one of the biggest shocks for me to see is how thick the line is between the well-off and the screw-ups.  In fact, it's not even a line that separates them.  It's a WALL.  I imagine it for one side to be made out of smooth 'n shiny granite and the other to made out of dry concrete that someone just slathered on, and standing about 100 meters high and encircling the entire globe.  Holy fuck, is that huge.

I had lived on the borderline of that concrete side for 12 fucking years.  Now I'm on the granite side and I am at a loss for words.

Apparently, what is serious shit to me is not serious shit here. If you're looking for a good time, you're supposed to say, "Let's get wasted, kill someone and get arrested, bitches!"  The guy with tobacco dribbling from his beard and talking to himself near 7-Eleven gets his picture on Facebook with the caption "OMG" underneath.  Girls post provocative messages in the elevators hoping to get laid on Valentine's Day.

Oh, sure.  I can do that when I know that there are people out there getting whacked out and shooting people and getting handcuffed everyday, the guy at 7-Eleven probably has had no one to talk to for years, and hookers go out at night hoping to make some good money because they're too afraid to go home.  HA-HA!  LOL!  THAT IS LIKE SO FUCKING FUNNY!

Every once in a while I find myself back on the concrete side, because everything just makes more sense there, kind of.  But what I get is people who are so messed up that I can't think of anything I can do to better their situations.  They swear.  They hurl insults.  They fight.  They laugh too loud.  They can't save their money.  They don't listen to advice.  They have no class.  Oh, thank God for these God-sent, wonderful people.

Before long, I'm begging to go back to the granite side, where the streets are paved with smiling, normal people and opportunities.

So that's where I am--torn.  I'm not a screw-up, but I don't joke about screw-ups or subjects pertaining to screw-ups.  So which side do I belong to?  Neither one.  And it SUCKS.

As much as I would like to be part of the well-offs, since that's the more favorable lifestyle, I feel as if I'm blocked by my own bubble.  Because they just have NO IDEA what it's like out there, where I'm from, and they're pretending it doesn't exist.

But as for the screw-ups, they are chucking away offenses at the people better off than them.  They're finding ways for others to despise them even more.  Do they know that?  Do they care?  No!

So what do I do?  I'm just sitting against this wall here, watching the activity going on on both sides.  The side I'm on now is too safe for me, but the other side is too dangerous.

So now what?  Do I hang on the edge of this dividing wall, and see which side I fall kersplat into?

Maybe.