I’m pissed off that every adult I knew while I was under the age of 21 lied to me. I was told that there was this place called the real world. I have yet to find it.
In the tiny little world I live in (in my head) we have these things called adults. And what they do is this thing we call act mature. Now I tend to have a chip in my brain that causes me to do random things like tell the truth when I shouldn’t. My intent is never to be rude, it always and only to say whatever truth is laying on my brain.
For example, if I ask you for something that belongs to you and you deny the use of it, why would I get upset? It was yours, possession is nine tenths of the law. If ownership is yours you have the right to deny and approve use of your belonging. It is an immature reaction to get pissed when someone says you can not use something that does not belong to you. If you are that passionate about using it, go get one of your own.
When immaturity still runs in the blood stream it leaves traces of this disease called ‘entitlement’. Entitlement is a mental delusion that allows the infected to perceive that they are entitle to the use, control, and/or possession of objects, credit, merit or attention that is not just or belonging. The only cure currently is to drain the body of all immaturity. To-date this is the only way to rid the body of this mental illness.
I was approached by a co-worker one day and asked if I wanted to trade shifts. I replied, no I do not. She proceeded to explain her situation as if this would alter my reply. Now I understand that we all have serious situations that cause for explanations. I’m just not one of those people who really cares. When I answered the question I had already considered that she needed it or she would not have asked. My frankness tends to lead people to believe I have genetic disorder called chronic as-shole. I was diagnosed at an early age, by the time I was 18 my mother stopped looking for a cure. Its one of those things you just live with. It doesn’t bother me so much as the people as the around me.
After explaining her need for the shift change and after my answer remaining the same, she asked why. She could have slapped me in the face. It would have hurt less. If I ask you and you say no, well you said no. I wouldn’t ask you for an explanation so I don’t give them. And being an adult affords me the privilege of not having to. I’m not obligated to oblige you, get over yourself and grow up.
Does that make me a horrible human-being? Does it make me insensitive and rude? Does it make a control freak? Possibly. And I will take your constructive criticism to bed with me and dream of ways to continue to make this Real World a better place.