Here’s the thing.
No matter how BAD you are at the game of “hit you harder,” you’re better at it than I am. It has taken me years… If not centuries to realize that you’re actually playing A GAME, and that the objective of this game is to gain… *shakes head in disbelief*
RESPECT.
R.E.S.P.E.C.T…
Respect. Of all the things in the world, these assholes think that “I hit you harder” will get the winner….
RESPECT.
Oh, man.
The level of human stupidity will never fucking dawn on me. Every time I think I got it, they just disappoint me more.
So I admit. I have no idea how to play these games. The only thing I know is that by playing them, you lose everything worth keeping and win nothing worth having in the end.
I also know that my guys would not know how to play these games if they didn’t have my fucking “best friend” to “help them” do it…. And that I have NO sense of humor when it comes to losing. I hate losing so much that I will fucking KILL YOU before I admit to defeat. And that’s why I don’t want to play these games, not these or anything else that requires sportsmanship, as I have NONE of that. You play me, and you’ll wind up dead if you hit a nerve bad enough… Which is true for everyone, to be fair. Whenever you hit THAT nerve… They’ll kill you, whoever they are. You destroy something too precious to them, and they’ll turn from a peace-loving peace-keeping peace man into a murdering dragon.
The smart thing in life is not to tickle the dragon’s tail.
I don’t want to fight people; I don’t want to “play games” with people because I fucking know I have no sense of humor about it. NONE. Like less than none. My sense of humor takes a fucking nose dive to sub zero temperatures when I realize someone is playing a fucking game with me. Toying with MY LIFE, my LOVE LIFE most dangerously, as if it was funny. Not funny to me.
You come into MY HOME and start playing games with me. And you expect to be respected?
The rules of the game is that you’re not supposed to lose your sense of humor, right? You’re each taking a bigger blow of some description at each other, and you’ll come up, have a laugh, and hit your opponent harder, until they forfeited. That’s the rules in a nutshell.
The trouble is, they don’t necessarily inform you they’re playing a fucking game… And you may not realize that, because the first blow you took a notice of was already on something TOO PRECIOUS to toy with. You warn them in time BEFORE they go too far, and they shit themselves.
And that shit turns ugly… Because the response is STILL the same: I’ll hit you harder, but with a dead pan face, and they think even the dead pan face is a fucking game face.
In the mean while, you may not be having fun at all, and I certainly make sure that if you’re playing me, you ain’t be having fun with it.
Because I have no sense of humor, I cannot take another blow with a smile on my face, I don’t like being hurt, I don’t like my friends and lovers being hurt, don’t like anyone I care about being hurt… And you mothafuckars don’t know who you can actually use as a pawn in your stupid fucked up game.
You can call me easy to offend, say I have no sense of humor, and that I’m a sore loser, and you’d be ABSOLUTELY FUCKING RIGHT.
That’s why I don’t play fucking games.
And yet, here I am, being forcibly being played games with by an emotional fucking child that my best friend calls “his woman.” Woman. Fucking Hell.
