Late on my sentences as usual. You know the drill. One sentence. Four minutes. Always late. But often finished… This post’s sentence is: “I was trying so hard to be myself I was turning into somebody else.”
This will be the first straight up literal translation of this I’ll do. This sentence makes me think about me. About selfishness. About how when I want something, whether it’s shiny or I ascribe god knows whatever else to justify my desiring it, I become blind to logic and practicality and to other people’s needs and hearts and their right to breathe without having to endure my presence or blind path walking.
I mean, being selfish is an idealistic thing, you know? And I guess what I mean by that is that when I was young, I didn’t care about what people thought (and I still don’t, to a particular degree). Truth at all costs, and all that shit. Freedom of speech and fuck you.
And now that I have a kid, I’m better about that stuff. I understand people who don’t want others to cuss around their kids. Or to smoke. Or to have too much violence on tv.
I now understand about “almost” with kids. As in, that person almost let my kid bust his ass.
I get these big sucking ins of my breath sometimes when these almosts occur.
Last night, Jack was crying for someone to come get him. I went over there, with good intentions: to make him learn he has no power. So that we can sleep. Not because I’m an asshole. And he let out this great big crying Pleeeeeeaaaaase! And I couldn’t swat it aside with my logic and book readings. I picked him up and told him to stop crying. That it would be okay.
And he said, “Okaaaaaay,” and he put his little head on my shoulder.
Sometimes, I try so hard to be hard, that I forget I’ve become a dad.