The Real Topic...

You don't have to be a genius to realise that I have a pretty low opinion of Myself, and lets face it; I haven't given you a great first impression, have I?

For a start there was the rotten crooked tooth, and the paranoia and depression, but I haven't yet mentioned the saggy tea-bag breasts, near anorexic body, thinning straggly hair, bushy eyebrows, hairy legs and acne; or have I? I know that I haven't yet told you that I bite my nicotine stained fingernails either, but I do that too- way down beyond the quick. Sometimes it hurts just to look at them, but I still try and 'fix' them up, only making things worse by biting them some more. I'm no pretty picture, that's for sure.

Just reading through that list of negative perfections above practically gives away my identity instantly- if you know who I am, that is- and if you do, or if we ever meet, will you please keep me a secret? I want my identity to remain anonymous- if it's at all possible I only want to rich, I don't want to be famous. I fear being known for who I really am, and it's not only because I don't want to get divorced or disinherited from my Family, who I'm not yet estranged from. I just couldn't hack that amount of attention.

Just know that no woman looks at me as if I am a threat. I'm an unfashionable mouse. But I try and be a nice person to everybody I meet. One of the mistakes I keep making in this life is that I keep thinking that everybody automatically likes me, when this is, in fact, impossible- especially when I know for a fact Golden Shower Boy hated me from the start. Someone could have told me this earlier- Mister Psychologist- or later will do. When we meet again.

But every day at school I would do my little 'rounds', saying hello to almost everybody that I knew, and they all talked back. I would talk to the rough kids and the cool kids and the popular kids and even the nerds who hung out at the library. I talked to the people that nobody else would. Like Burger. She was in a religious cult and had to go home at lunchtime. They didn't have a TV and so she had lots of brothers and sisters and cousins. She wasn't allowed to cut her hair or wear it in a plait even though she was so pretty. I hope she thought that I was one of the nicer people at our school; a lot of the other kids gave her a lot of shit for stuff she couldn't help. It wasn't her fault she was born into a cult. If she ever escaped the cult maybe she is reading this story and she will know who I am- for I Did call her Burger, and she would remember that I'm sure- because she thought I was weird for calling her Burger when it wasn't anything like her real name, and for wanting to give her a French braid- or so she used to say at the time. But hey- weird? That's offensive. I wasn't the one in a cult.

It's my mission in life to find something in common with everyone I meet, whether that be by sharing an interest or an opinion , or even just an experience. For some reason everybody I meet talks to me. I know that sounds ridiculously obvious, but I can tell you something quirky, trivial and meaningful about almost everybody I know- and relative strangers are my specialty.

My driving instructor Scott, who I had six lessons with when I was seventeen, had a knack for remembering number plates- his were SH1967- and he got shitty at me for popping a tyre going around Boundary Street in third gear instead of second. For another example, if you showed me a picture of my kindergarten class I can not only remember all of their names, but most of their birthdays and where they lived, as well as some of their phone numbers. And the longer I went through school the more information I learnt about these and other people.

And they all liked me, I'm sure they all did, even those who were the older or younger siblings of people I knew of. I still bump into people at the pub, who might not have been in any of my classes, but I could tell you the names of their siblings, or who they sat with at school, and they often do not even know who I am. I like to think I am a personable person- maybe that's why I've been able to let some of my friendships go so easily over the years- because whatever we shared was good and worth it but now it's finished, and then we move on to someone new. For now at least.

I suppose some of my current friendships might still be able to be saved. There was this one time that Bbbb and I didn't talk for years because of a misunderstanding and near punch-up that we had on my eighteeth birthday- and even though it took us a few years we eventually got over it. I suppose I can even see why her boyfriend of the time disapproved of me for her friend because I had let her down pretty badly once before- when I wanted to stay with my Hubby(then occasional-fuck) and picked to be with him instead of going away with her for the weekend as we'd planned, even though she was the one who was loyal to me and he was not.

I don't know if I led Bbbb astray or not- her boyfriend probably thought I did but I doubt she would ever think of it that way- even though she did quit school the day after I did. I was also the one who handed out her first cigarette and passed her first bong to her before we went to the Regional Show to puke up Pluto Pups on the rides, too, so I guess I really wasn't much of a good example for her to follow. I suppose her boyfriend must have been able to recognise mania and depression in a person, but that just made him a hypocrite for thinking that I shouldn't have been her friend- because he was even crazier than me, and he was having a relationship with her. The oaf.

Well, somehow I managed to swerve off the Real topic, which in fact is Me, so back to that...