The Amanda Project

Does your life have meaning?  Why are we here?  The eternal questions that have plagued humanity as far back as civilization spans.  

Lately, I've been asking myself slightly altered versions of these questions; not so much looking for a calling or a purpose, but more examining the person I am, and the impact I've  had on those unfortunate enough to be a part of my vida loca . 

Look at me, being all deep and shit, and I'm not even drinking, crazy right?   

The other day I started examining the differences between the person that I once was, and the person that I've become; let me tell you, the differences are vast.  I know that you're probably thinking, "Well, no shit, Amanda, everyone changes as the years go by." (for those of you thinking that, that know me, I'm giving you my "Wtf, really?" look), I'm looking beyond most typical and superficial changes.  I'm not going to sit here and start listing off everything *boring*, but I will say that I'm not too incredibly fond of the person I am today.   

One of the traits I've seemed to acquire in the last 10 years, is my uncanny ability to ostracize myself.  I can remember days gone by when I was this little social butterfly, who loved people and being around them; now I'm a grumpy, hermit-like, shadow of of my former self, shaking my fists in the air, screaming for people to get off my lawn.  I understand fully that some of this can be attributed to gaining in age and wisdom.  I've shed the child like naivety, and am no longer blinded by the belief that people, as a whole are generally good. People suck, society is over run with users, abusers, and self serving jackasses, who want nothing more than to find the next person that's willing to serve their purposes.  Once you've outlived your usefulness, they exit as quickly as they entered your life,  leaving  nothing but destruction and pain in their wake.  

Some may call me a cynic or say I'm jaded, but I call it realistic.  I could at this very moment spout off a list of names of people that I know only talk to me because they want something from me. Whether it be something I can give them, do for them, or to them for that matter, they have no real interest in me as a person, or in my life.   Filing through people fruitlessly trying to sort the artificial from the real thing, is tiring.  I've grown weary, and honestly have no patience for it anymore; resulting in a more guarded, cautious, and less trusting, me. 

YAY for me, right?  I mean, if you don't get close to people, they can't hurt you, expect nothing and you will never be disappointed.  So yeah, I suffer a lot less this way, but I also enjoy much less.
The downside of all of this, are the good people I've encountered and pushed away, my loss. People that have opened themselves to me, bared their souls, so to speak and I pushed them aside.  Self preservation at its finest and worst.  I know I hurt those people, I know it wasn't fair to them, and what I wouldn't give to fix it.  Let me know when you invent the time machine, will you?

Anyway, point being, that's not who I want to be.  I don't want to be the cause of someone turning into me.  

I mean I know I'm not a "bad" person, actually, I'm probably nicer than I should be most times.  Fiercely loyal to my friends, not much I won't do to make someone smile, or just to make their day a little happier, always there when they need me.  You know, they way I wish people would be to me.

This got me thinking, if I know what I don't want to be, do I know what I do want to be?  The answer I came up with, "Hell, I don't even fucking know who I am anymore."  it was frightening realization.

So, if you have been bored enough to read this far, I hope you will continue to join me for journey down the rabbit hole.  If nothing else, you might find new material to point and laugh about. 

Unlike my typical posts, there is no moral to this story, but more so an initial self realization:
I'm a good woman, and a bad girl, a wonderful contradiction.  The type who, if we were dating, you could take home to meet the folks, and your dear sweet mother would love me, unless she found out what I'm willing to do behind closed doors.