I've never before had someone in my life that hated me. I'm not saying that with any sort of ego... I just never had that experience. Maybe I have and just didn't know it, with ignorance being bliss and all that... but in this instance there is one sole person that feels this way toward me. It's a weird feeling. I don't consider myself the most charming person in the world but I've always felt charming enough to get people to at least feel neutral about me. Ya don't love me, ya don't hate me. And because I'm a trusting person, I tend to put that faith into everybody and it remains there until they have done me wrong so many times I finally learned my lesson.
I also feel that for people to hate you, with honestly and truly no good reason to do so, there is something inherently wrong with them. Whatever issues they have with you are a direct reflection of whatever is going on inside their own mind. It took a while for me to realize how that is nothing I can help, nothing I can fix. Particularly because you can't fix something that doesn't want to be fixed... and maybe doesn't even know it needs to be fixed. People would tell me "he's just jealous," but eventually I want to scream "JEALOUS OF WHAT!?" I could spout out a few theories but they would be cruel and unnecessary. So I shan't.
It sucks to always be ice-skating uphill with a person. That for every kindness you show them there is an equally negative reaction they throw in your face. It is an exhausting endeavour meant solely to tear you down as a human being and it's unfair. They share something so you share something in turn, and they walk away without a reaction because anything you could possibly have to say bears no importance or meaning to them. They take your response to a story ("Oh really? That's neat.") as payment for sharing, yet do not return the same kindness.
There's something to be said about people like me. The ones that like to laugh and make others laugh with them. That wear their hearts on their sleeves. The ones that can cry at the drop of a hat when they watch a sad movie or feel immense empathy when a dear friend is having a bad day. Even if that bad day is just an anniversary of a bad day in their life. Because people like me that show all of that on the outside are quite hard on the inside. Strong, resilient, and mostly silent in their deepest feelings because, often, it is the deepest feelings that would cut the deepest if revealed.
Then there are the other people. The ones who like to speak loudly and too often. That don't share so much as scream their opinions in the faces of others, with an air of confidence that is both disgusting and entrancing with all of its flaws. Noses so high in the air they'd drown if it rained. They are the ones that know everything about everything, the right and the wrong way and how you are only ever doing it the wrong way. People like that, who show such stubbornness and arrogance on the outside are quite soft on the inside. Cowards... losers at their own game. Unloved by anyone because who could love someone so thoroughly ugly in every aspect of life?
He knows who he is, and because I don't name names in my blogs, I won't reveal it.
But he knows who he is.
He's reading this right now.
He likes to read my blogs for anything juicy I might have to say so that he can spread it and try to get me in trouble with the powers that be. And he might be thinking "I don't hate him... why would Sean say that?" but when actions speak louder than words, and the words he has shared behind my back extend for several years, it is the only logical explanation.
Right now, in this moment, I don't mind sharing this. There wasn't a day that went by while knowing him when he didn't have something negative to say about me. How wrong I was in my actions, how I was faking it when I was too sick to work. How I was no good at my job, how I was going to get the store shut down, how much trouble I would be in if "only someone knew what Sean was doing here." How I'm an "okay" person but the worst manager. It was all unfounded, of course. Never mind that he was the only person to feel this way, it sure as hell didn't stop him from trying to convince others that it was how they should feel as well.
Only come to find that people inherently know how big words from a small man rarely carry any clout. They certainly didn't with me.
But what eventually became hysterical was that he had no clue I was aware of what he was saying the whole time. The whole, entire, sweet time. He was blinded by a false sense of invincibility, that no one would share with me his dirty thoughts about what kind of person I was. And I'd see him, very often, and look him in the eye and listen to his stories and just bite my tongue on anything I wanted to share. I knew how anything and everything I could say would immediately be twisted and turned into some god awful statement taken completely out of context and tone as it was shared with everyone else.
Bottom line, did his words hurt me? Sure; I'm not so brazen as to claim they didn't. Razors of any sharpness will hurt when slung often enough. That being said, did I let it get to me? Nope.
Yet bitches are gonna bitch.
Listen, I can absolutely tolerate not being liked by everyone. That's the nature of life and I'll deal with it without any qualms. You can't win all the time, I know this. It confused me for the longest time as to how he could be so mean... so utterly and completely rotten. And it took me a very long time to come to terms with the fact that I just wasn't going to win him over. No matter how nice I was or how many opportunities I gave him to turn it around. Some things are too lost from the start for there to be any hope. The few times he was confronted he would default to the herd mentality of "I only said it because so-and-so said it first," which is such a spineless tactic bullies resort to in the hopes of justifying their shit behavior.
Eventually I knew I'd be moving away knowing I'd never have to deal with him again, leaving him behind with the leftover bits of trash and debris from my life in Wisconsin that I didn't care enough to pack up and take with me. A subpar human being that did more talking than doing but somehow always felt I didn't know how to do my own job despite the numbers I produced to the contrary. A gossiping, spiteful, vindictive, backstabbing curmudgeon that actually asked how much money I was going to be getting a couple days after my grandfather died. A primadonna, borderline sociopath hell bent on hurting anyone around him that could be happy, only because he didn't understand how to attain it.
I don't think you know how to be happy... what's worse is that I don't think you care to be happy.
But maybe you already know that? I just want to make sure.
Of course I also want to make sure you know that I've used my words to write you this letter. My words, which to me are my most sacred and treasured possession. I know you'll roll your eyes at that but I'm okay with it. Until now my words have been used to write books that you no-doubt trash-talked up the wall, because hell, if you yourself didn't write it then it's obviously awful, right? My words have been used to write my blogs in the hopes that maybe they would affect someone in a positive way, but any positive message I've ever penned obviously would have gone right over your head because you wouldn't be willing to absorb it.
Lastly, my words have been used to write letters to my closest friends. The people that made a difference in my life, from friends to family to the people at the store that I loved seeing every day. The people that made me who I am and that I will miss the most when I'm gone.
Decidedly, this letter is the first time I've written out of pity. This letter oozes in pity, and I hope that was not lost on you. Because I pity you; hating you would take too much effort and you just don't deserve it. You don't deserve my time. Not now, not ever. To spend my time and effort on you would be like squeezing blood from a stone.
So go on with your life, try to humiliate more people to make yourself feel better, and keep looking at yourself in the mirror, knowing what lies behind your eyes. Understand that everyone knows all about you and what makes you tick, and know that you weren't so clever as to get away with any of it. Most of us have better things to do than worry about your opinion. Most of us have people in our lives that love and adore us, every second spent with us, and they are the people that deserve our attention. Not you.
To you I say good riddance.
As for the rest of you? See you tomorrow with another blog. Ciao (c:
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