On the ego

Welcome to my screwed up world. It’s not screwed up in a normal screwed-up sense, it’s screwed up in a screwed up kind of way. There’s nothing really bad that happens to me on a daily basis. There are far too many  people who are far less blessed than I am. But I trust by now, if you’ve cared to read anything else here, you know I’m not entirely normal either. People seldom are.

But if there’s one thing I’ve seen in people, and learned to be wary of it through experience after painful experience, is that they invariably have some measure of ego. Now that’s where my claims of not being normal come closer to legitimacy. You see, there’s something very wrong here, and I realised that a while ago and it upset me to such a degree that any recollection that seeps through the mental block I’ve put on this subject leaves me as faint as though I’ve just guzzled down a pitcher of liquid nicotine.

I don’t have one. Bull? No. It’s extremely unsettling. It is, when you realise that this juggernaut of all things even remotely vermin is what the world, and by extension most of the people in it, works on. It’s unsettling that I don’t have it because everyone else seems to have one. And that leaves me right up the famous creek without a paddle.

Consider this. I have spent most of my life with people with whom I either did not have a close enough relationship for it to have reached a point where egos would come into play, or they were similar to me, or cared about me too much to let ego get in the way. I learned from them, and I grew up egoless. And as soon as I put on my big boy underpants and stepped into the real world, it turned out that anything anyone ever does is mostly to satisfy and feed that monster. And when that happens, care for others and their emotions becomes secondary to that addiction. Self esteem is hooked on how fat that monster is. How well-fed it is. And in that process, people who don’t give a wooden nickel about it end up like me. They suffer. Bad.

Now i’ve spent a good 6 years being dumped on and taking it quietly. Why? Because every time I have resisted, the other person’s ego does not allow them to back down from the fight, and they would rather never see my face again than to accept they are wrong. That is fast becoming the story of my life. And I’m panicking. I’m always, ALWAYS, that guy who says fuck it, if they don’t want to end the stand-off,  I should so the relationship doesn’t suffer, or break.

Well that’s a slippery slope. Because that sort of thing is then taken for granted, and I end up a doormat on which giant egos feed and who ultimately, when they stop getting their fill, they discard.

Sucks doesn’t it? I hate it with a passion. I hate it like I hate no other. Paris Hilton is a close second.


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