I am not a nice guy.

Social definitions between "nice" and "kind" differ greatly, at least that's how many of my friends perceive it. Personally, I agree with them on a technical basis, but splitting hairs has never been fun for me. A "nice" person is a person who will basically put on a happy face when they're talking to you and then commence to back-biting when you're out of eyesight or earshot- many southerners can understand this kind of mentality. Conversely, a "kind" person is someone you can depend on, with certainty, to be honorable, honest, friendly, faithful and true at just about all times, making the times when he/she treats others poorly the exception to the rule.

I am honest. I am perceptive. I am consistent. I do not change at the drop of a hat simply because the force of my character makes someone else uncomfortable. If someone would like me to be a "nice" person, they'd do good to go somewhere else. I will not willingly put on some kind of social mask because others are afraid to face the truth- and even within many jokes and jibes there is the evidence of a grain of truth. I am all about seeing things for what they are. And I speak in metaphors (not all the time, but often). When tell people I speak in metaphors, I don't say it like it's some sort of condition that sets me apart from humanity or it's something I'd like to change about myself. I mean, Christ, I'm a writer.

A writer who communicates in metaphors? (gasp!!!) How can this be?
Quick! Someone give 'im a book deal to shut him the fuck up!

If someone approaches me and begins to regale me with their problems, I am not going to just sit there and smile and nod and make nice-nice with them; if they didn't want help with their problems, then they wouldn't talk about them so damn much, right? They're either looking for answers or validation. Yes, I am tired of people greeting me with their BS troubles for the day. But instead of simply removing myself from the places I like to be, just to get away from the drama, I'm going to endure the line of BS someone is handing me and then I'm going to respond with the truth- the kind that hurts.

Lizzy: I am so tired of hearing about Sally bitch about people all the time.
Me: And you're no better by talking about her. Tell me good things about your life or go be immature around someone else.

Geoffrey: Man, I'm drunk. Girlfriend broke up with me last night. Tore one off.... fuckin' bitch.
Me: Did she come back when you got sufficiently drunk or do you feel like taking on the world now?
Geoffrey: Huh? No, man. I'm drunk. I can't do shit right now and she's screwing my best friend. She's gone.
Me: Then I doubt that drinking is going to make the situation any better. In fact, I'm sure it'll make things worse. Enjoy the hangover, 'cause you've earned it.
Geoffrey: What?! The lying bitch pushed me to drink!
Me: You can fool yourself into believing that, but unless she tied you down and poured the drinks down your throat with her own two hands, I'd say the blame rests squarely on your shoulders- especially for how you feel. If you don't like feeling it, then stop fooling yourself and grow up. I'm sorry she left you; I am sorry you're drunk; I am not sorry she's gone if this is how she inspires you to feel; I am not going to feel sympathy because you'd rather drown your sorrows with alcohol than face them or better yourself. The state you're in now, is entirely your own doing and I'm sure there's money missing from your pocket or account to prove it.

I am simply through trying to coddle people, dammit. If I try to treat them with kindness and respect and friendship, I'm treated like some sort of mystic, a man who is somehow beyond grasp. If I treat them with the utter, complete, unabridged truth, I am treated like this world's worst enemy. I can't fucking win with some friends. So... instead of trying to be friends with people who don't want friends, I'm going to be a simply hard, cold motherfucker of truth. Some people expect me to speak the truth. Now it's time I give them truths they don't expect. Some people are afraid of what I see in them, that I see too much of their true character. Well, guess what? Fear is an invitation to attack; it's about time I attack and tell people exactly what I see.

One thing's for certain: I am sick and tired of people insisting that the lies they tell me and themselves are someone else's fault.