Villainy

I don't miss him.

At least, that's what I've decided to tell myself. It's not worth wasting any more thought over. There are people in this world, a lot of them, who think that connections are the only way to live. Who think that other people are the only way to survive. They're wrong, and I'll prove it.

I would describe myself as a fairly independent person. It's something that I've always put on job resumes and the like. But, at the end of the day, I am unfortunately, irrevocably, permanently, human. And humans all have innate desires, including social ones.

Natural drives make me feel out of control. Every villain is supposed to have a motive, right? Well, mine's power. I want total power over my own life, and I don't care what I have to do and who I have to hurt to get it. I want control.

I think I might be depressed. In the scheme of things, it doesn't really matter, but it's still there. I'm not going to go get pills or any other kind of help for it. I just like to know things about myself.

See, people generally don't like to have themselves explained. They don't like to know why they do things or sometimes, even that they do certain things. It makes people uncomfortable to face themselves.

I'm not saying that being the opposite of that makes me better than those people, but I am saying that it's much more convenient. I avoid lying to myself too much by truly facing the different parts of who I am, and I think I'm much happier for it. At least I can say that I know who I am at the end of the day, even if that means saying that I'm not a good person. At least I can be myself unapologetically because I understand what that means.

I like the way that thinking about all of that feels, so I do something about it. I make a phone call and set up an appointment at the tattoo parlor down the street for late this afternoon, and I do a little bit of research to figure out just what will represent that exact feeling for me.

Eventually, I find it looking through Latin phrases. Nosce te ipsum, the ink down my side will read. Know thyself.

I brew a pot of tea, and I wonder. I wonder what I should do next. Should I read? Should I write? Should I paint? Should I learn how to play the guitar in my closet? Should I go for a run? I never know. I'll decide eventually.

I also wonder about things less shallow. I wonder if I'm ever going to meet someone else who understands. I wonder why I care if I'll ever meet someone else who understands. I wonder why humans were made as the emotional creatures that we are. I wonder why I care.

I drink the tea, and I decide to write. I don't get many words out. Not any that matter, anyway.

My tattoo doesn't take very long, and I give the artist a nice tip because he didn't talk to me much, or ask me why I wanted the tattoo or anything like that. He just does his job, and it makes me happy, if only for the moment.