If You Really Knew Me

In the spirit of Tess and Michelle, I’d like to continue the ‘If you knew me’ thread with a post of my own. It’s hard to come up with original content when everyone is nice and all. After all, we’re all very similar when you get right down to it.

I am aware that mostly, we are responsible for our own problems and issues. Although some people suck and really are out to get you, most aren’t. Honestly, most don’t really care at all. I cope through jokes. Sometimes humor doesn’t translate well to the page, post, comment or tweet. If you knew me, you’d know that there was no malice in my heart, and hurting someone is that last thing I would ever want to do. Joke = Good. Mean = Bad. You would probably categorize me as the type of guy that does care, even for strangers. I must admit, I do so, and to a fault.

If you knew me, you’d dismiss half of what I say as silliness. I was always the class clown at school, and a lot of times, at work. Some people who think they know me may perceive my introverted demeanor, or my desire to keep my problems to myself as antisocial. They would be wrong. I’m in pain, but I’m a survivor. I move on. If you really knew me, you’d know that I’m stronger than I was. I’m far from perfect. There is rage in my heart, but the logical side of me knows to shrug it off. I’m trying.

If you knew me, you would never put mushrooms on my pizza. Ew.

Finally, if you knew me, you’d say that I’m overly emotional, especially for a dude. If that means I’m secure enough to cry when Rose blows into the whistle at the end of Titanic, I’m guilty. But I’m not overly sensitive when it comes to me. I’m thick-skinned. I demand honesty when friends spend their valuable time to critique my work, for example. Bring out them tiger-mama claws baby. Bring it, but hold the mushrooms.