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Understanding You so You Can Understand Me

The Art of Understanding

In order to gain any sort of stability we must first begin to understand each other...but understanding why some people do what they do is difficult...oh, believe me, believe us, it's difficult. Let's divulge for a minute by making a list (and checking it twice, three times, four times, and on and on and so forth):

The angry drunks, who drink until they are pissing fumes...who, if you should so much as look at their girlfriend, step on their toe, sneeze in their direction, laugh at them because what you thought they said was a joke but it turns out it wasn't, or the list goes on and on and on....they want to fight you. They look for a fight like a junkie looks for dope. They look for a fight like an obese person looks for the largest amount of meals they can consume per day. But to each us own right...some people get drunk and don't bother with anybody, some people get drunk and bother with everybody. But we must understand...maybe they really can't help it. Maybe it's just that when their bodies consume too much alcohol, they become dicks...simple solution: don't drink. But this is never easy...no this is never easy, trust me I know, I know.

Continue,

The bulimics: the girls who find any hint of fatness on their bodies so repulsive that they will gag and spit and throw up any food which they consume. The bulimics who lean their heads into toilets (not unlike the drunks, it's imprudent to add) as if they are junkies and the toilet is the dope...seeking some kind of refuge in skinniness-...as if the skinnier you are the happier you will be. Little do they know that guys are just as unattracted to girls that are too skinny as they are unattracted to girls who are too large (but I digress). Simple solution: be comfortable, accept what god gives you, and eat what you want. But we must understand...we must understand that maybe they cant help it. That they just want to be accepted and no matter what anybody says they will always think they aren't good enough...aren't skinny enough. (pay attention to the italics now, because I use those for purposes...pay attention now to the links between each person....you'll see...we're all the same)

Continued:

The heroin addicts themselves. The vast difference amongst all of them...and yet, the similarities. The ability to have one who takes heroin and is on their own...who's parents gave up on them long, long ago and they basically "use" as their form of a family...as their own father...mother...brother. The other kind: the well-privileged user. The user who uses mommy and daddy's cash to buy themselves their fix. The ones who ride around in their parents paid-for cars while they steal their parents jewelry and pawn it. The kids who literally could find nothing else to make them happy...so they turn to the needle. Turn to the refuge of chemicals through their veins. Simple solution: stop doing the fucking drug. We must understand though...maybe they cant help it. Maybe they just can't get over things that have happened to them and no other object, person, pet in the world could offer them the contentedness that the drug does. Maybe they take the drug in hopes that one day they will fall asleep on it...and never wake up. Maybe they take it because it takes them away from everything...maybe they try to quit but the days which they don't have it in their system are too painful...where they lean their heads into toilets and find themselves in more pain than if they were to have gotten into a bar fight the previous night...maybe they tried to quit, but they can't because they are weak and can't handle the pain...ahhh, maybe...maybe.

Continued:

The girlfriend and wife beaters: the men who are so weak that they have to beat up on a woman to feel adequate. The ones who close their fists and aim it at the one person who might actually be able to make them happy. The ones who bottle up all of their hatred and anger until it explodes. Simple solution: punch a fucking pillow...punch a freaking wall. But...fuck...we must understand. Maybe they can't help it. Maybe they were molested as a child and developed some need to feel superior to a female...or superior in general. Maybe they were beat as a child and are just carrying on the genes...maybe, afterwards, they feel better and okay about themselves despite all the evidence to the contrary...Maybe.

Continued:

The one-upers: the people who always have to beat you verbally...no matter what the topic is. The person who will correct you if you say "the sky is blue" by saying "sometimes it's blue...sometimes its pink." The person who when you say you just got a pool they say "I've had a pool for the last 10 years." The people who can never hear anything good about anyone else but themselves. The people who quiver at the very mention of second place. The people who have to have every little thing become some sort of competition. I got an above ground pool: "oh yeah! well myyyyyy dad is getting us an in-ground pool!" Conrat-u-fucking-lations. Simple solution: don't always feel like someone is saying something just to start some sort of lackluster competition...stop caring so much. But we must understand...maybe they cant help it....maybe always having something better than someone else makes them feel okay...maybe their parents talked them up so much as children that they simply became full of themselves and don't know any better...maybe they just want attention all the time because they never got enough as children...maybe...but we must understand...I mean, we have to..

One more because this list could go on forever and ever (and don't think I picked certain ones because they are any more important than the types of people not mentioned. For if you have another type of person...please...do share for all of us).

Finally:

The compliment seekers: the people who are always trying to get you to say something good about themselves...anything: the shoes they picked to wear today look good, the joke they just told was hysterical...and whatever and etc. The ones who were never told they were good enough as children. The ones whose 5th grade gym teachers told them that they would never amount to anything...the ones who were bullied by neighbors and who were always picked last for sports teams...the ones who have never felt good enough, for anybody, who just want to hear their name, for once, followed by a compliment...something positive...something good. The ones who get on your fucking nerves because you need just as much recognition as they do...and you ask yourself why you should bother making them feel special, when nobody makes you feel special...but we have to fucking understand. Maybe they can't help it. maybe they truly have never heard any body in their entire lives say they are proud of them...maybe they have always felt like everything they have said or done was never ever good enough...maybe they just want to feel loved...and are just jealous of you because you've felt that...you've felt love. Maybe they just treat compliments like a junkie treats his dope...like a bulimic treats her toilet.

Do you get it...do you get the fucking point. I, amongst everyone else, admit I have a problem with understanding.  And that's a problem...a big fucking problem. Why? Well, because you can't help a single person if you cant relate to them, can you?

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