I save the pages of the requiem for those times I really need to let it out and be done with it. I think now’s about the time to release the steam I’ve had to endure from various sources.

I’d like to talk about myself for a little bit. I am odd I know that I am I do not need someone else to point this fact out to me. I am unemotional yet ruled by emotion, I have friends yet don’t claim any friendships, I am known as the walking juxtaposition and I carry that title in every aspect of my lives.

I am notoriously known for my calmness during emergencies and after the torrent storms whatever they may be have passed, then long after I allow myself to succumb to the emotions and distresses of whatever the emergencies may have been. I have post traumatic stress from several aspects of my RL that hadn’t manifested itself until years after my dealings, those are times where we realized my holding emotions in or ignoring them altogether was more damaging than good.

Another thing I usually kick my own ass over is not doing things perfectly, timely and precisely. I am actually in all sense not a perfectionist but when I am asked to do a task whatever it may be it is triple checked on duplicate hard copied studied varied and precisely calculated to within a tenth of a negative variable due to human err. They once called my human the calculator from the seventh depth and it was completely accurate. It is an archetype of my persona that is hard to overcome. From taking payment for a rental to setting down a prim everything is done in correct order.

What happens if I fail, what happens if I don’t do something correctly or say something to offend someone? Why can’t I be normal what offense to a god have I done to make me the way I am?

Albeit this method is quite barbaric and irrational the only reasonable escape to these questions is to lock yourself up for two years and never speak to another soul as long as you can hold out.

And that’s exactly what I have done for the past two years.

With little and/or no interaction to the outside world beside my wife I lived my life locked away. When I finally did obtain work I did what I was told and nothing else, coworkers would come close to me but I was beyond their reach. Thanks to my first family unit for instilling the ‘last man standing’ scenario. Those who were not joined by blood wanted your blood. Perhaps this is schizophrenic but in the case of my first family unit there were people out to ruin their lives and this sense has carried on in me.

So SL was a sort of social release. No one knew me or knew my guiding spirits and it gave me a good open window to just observe the interactions between people. Still I was wary of this odd life and its odd people. It was a cesspit of extreme emotional chaos and raw carnal pleasures acted out without inhibition.

Rarely I was on, I didn’t know how to build, had no idea how to get the damn box off my head. I’m no leader, I’ve always been solitary or in solitary confinement. The role of Manger to Steelhead wasn’t something I asked for nor was it something I expected. So to say I was unprepared was a complete understatement. It came to my attention I had been an estate manager a bit less than the owner of New Babbage. Although I’m unclear if this statement was meant as insult or praise for the first four months of my new position I had a complete lack of knowledge about group/land/even building. Politically due to the former mayor/builder of the lands my hands were proverbially tied down. We instilled change, and to this day I do not consider myself a good builder or leader to this town but I am trying.

With that KNOW THAT I WILL MAKE MISTAKES.

Although I am an elf the persons that guide my avatar are human and as such I have a right to err. The day I was made manager was the day SL stopped being a game to me and became a job. It still is and I will treat it as such. Again mistakes have been made and if I have made them trust I am the first person to second guess everything I do/say without having to be thrown into a battle of wits to make me feel less than human. If a mistake has been made and I have overlooked my folly then I am to be informed and we are to discuss and rectify the situation as speedily as possible. I will accept constructive criticism on my performance… I refuse to be someone’s target for insurrection.

After having been hospitalized for believing myself unable to make a mistake I refuse to allow anyone even myself (mostly myself) to tell me that everything I do must be perfect. I protect that right to myself as a living being in terra firma and will NEVER look at another person’s failure as merit of their character.

Remember that note card *get to know your friends* that went around the past week? There was a question that asked how many scars you had on your body. I believe my count was around 33. 25 of those are self inflicted because I believed I failed the world around me. Now they’re reminders to me that I am human and I bleed red blood. One of the scars was from my death. But I’m here now and I’m alive and I won’t make the same mistake again, to strive for earthly perfection.

I have been wronged. I have been humiliated and used for someone’s personal joy only to be ignored and dumped after being dragged around feeling like shit. No names are said here ever, to those who know the circumstance. But you cannot take the way I felt, and I feel used like some cheap toy later buried in the grass long forgotten. I’m not worth this pain, NOT ANYMORE. If this is not a valid reason to be struck with shock when I am mocked in public then again I have committed a wrongdoing… but I am and I was. My actions I am not proud of, it would have been best to never become involved and that’s my mistake and I will gladly proclaim it was my oversight.

So over this, I lost a friendship.

Remember I said those who were not my blood would be out for my blood? I hate to admit my father was right. He would have laughed at me for opening up to people, for having friends…

Maybe I am a fool, maybe we’re all fools.

This is all over and done with fixed and resolved. This is my ranting to a situation that has left a sour taste in my mouth for a very long time. I don’t want to hear about it anymore, I’ve heard enough namecalling and pointing of fingers to be done with the dramatics of secondlife. But if it takes one tiny mistake to destroy a bond, then perhaps our bond was only superficial at least on one side. Why not, I’ve been used for less before?

Or maybe I’m overanalyzing again.



To the world who wants my blood: kutabacchimae!