two faces of...me

I've had a startling revelation. I, your humble narrator, am completely two-faced. Its amazing just how artificial I am in every social and psychological sense of the word. I'm one of those people who's really friendly with you when you're around and then talks smack about you behind your back. So nice and believably genuine that you honestly believe I like you and enjoy being around you, then the moment you've left my general vicinity I rant and rave and let off all the steam that's built up since the moment you opened your mouth.

Take my recent blog entries, for example. You think I ever call my flatmates "the kiddies" to their faces? You think I'm anything but sweet and helpful, jovial and even playful with them? (unless I'm drunk--then I just complain about the guv'ment at them).

Unless I directly tell people otherwise, I imagine they go along their daily lives not in any way aware that their slightly strange friend with short hair is cringeing inside at the very sight of them.

I'd love to tell a good 80% of the people I know where to shove it. I'd love them to know that at all times I'm barely restraining myself from ripping their throat out (with my tattered, bloody fingernails, all bitten to the quick from sheerest frustration at trying to contain the truth of my opinions).

I maintain surface-healthy friendships with people for years, decades even, while secretly loathing everything about them from their taste in clothes to that small crossover of their central and lateral incisors on the left side of their mouth. (note: this is not actually a reference to anyone i know, that i know of.) I resent my friends that are prettier than me. I abhor my friends who are smarter than me. Everyone I know is better than I am at something and I'd really just like to take their instruments, paint brushes, model bridges, trim thighs, cute clothes, nice handwriting, and perfect fucking skin and just tear them into tiny bits, and then I'll jump on them until..until...i've had enough.

But will they ever know this? Oh no. I'm so good at acting over the truth that not only my friends but even meticulous analysts wouldn't have a clue. I've had neighbors and co-workers go years thinking I considered someone a dear friend until I finally let loose the truth to them in a jumping, screaming fit.

My poor mother endures the majority of these outbursts. The one person who knows when I'm being artificial because she taught me how to do it. To keep face, to smile, to keep tabs, to restrain myself to the point that my temples throb rather than just tell the person to fuck themselves and get on with my life.

Its not like I just smile and hold back the string of insults when I briefly run into people socially. No no. I'll hang out with them for hours. I'll talk and laugh and get into deeply political debates and drink and party and hug and act real excited when I see folks. I'll seek them out. And then I come on here and complain about them all.

This is not benefitting anyone. Not the people I purport to be friends with, as they're being deceived. Not me, as I'm going insane and beating myself up with pent-up anger about it. Not the people I actually want to be friends with, 'cos the moment they find or figure out that I'm an utter phony they stop trusting my interactions with them. I don't have the balls to tell anyone to their faces that I can't stand the sight of them. I don't even have the nerve to be acridly sarcastic with them so they feel slighted. I have difficulty avoiding them or cutting them out of my life. I'm fucking NICE.