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"I'd Like to Thank..."

[written 10/8/01]

One day, I'm going to accomplish something that merits recognition. Something positive. I'm not sure what it is. Looking at my present situation, I don't know how I'll get from here to there. But maybe I'll become popular or something and direct a movie or write something good or do a good deed or create a beautiful original music album or something.

And when it comes time for me to give my acceptance speech on national television, here is what I am going to do.

I am going to thank every single motherfucker, twit, backstabber, chick who spurned me, and the rest of the people who never gave me a chance and who never thought I was worth anything and who thought they were better than me.

Don't take it the wrong way. I'm not crazy or anything. I just want to thank every one of them -- by their full names -- to show my appreciation for what they did to make me the successful person I'd become as a result of their pushing me away and forcing me to find another way to get where I end up.

The names of people who support me in my life are obvious. They're family and friends. Everyone thanks these people in their speeches. But some credit must also be given to the people who made me feel like shit, who made claims they never fulfilled, and who have no idea who a good person is. The people who, instead of bringing me down to their level by spending time with them, pushed me away into my own world of writing and learning and finding better people to associate myself with.

People like an old friend who decided he was better than me, who didn't respect what I was studying or what I was doing in my life, but who in reality has nothing of his own except insecurities which crop up in every relationship he has, making them abusive, and the material things he treasures, which in reality are only tangible evidence of his lack of self-esteem and the denial of it. Of course, while I was his friend, I made no judgments about his choices. The favor was not returned.

Or a girl who I surprised with flowers, her never having been given any by anyone before, who decided not to even give me the time of day, not wholly inconceivable in its own right, but later lied about her motives for doing so, which I thought was undeserved. The rampant female mentality of making a man walk through hot coals before dismissing him with a mere hand gesture and before any words are exchanged.

It is not a feeling of revenge, or envy, or anything else. It's more of a question of why? Why did you have to be like that? What did I do to deserve that? These are questions asked in an impersonal, callous society.

By naming them, I am saying, this is who you are, and I know what you're like no matter how well you hide it to others.

And I am right about you, in the end. No matter how loud you argue against it.

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