darkness, imprisoning me
There are just total fucking scumbags all over the place in Vegas: con artists, criminals, liars, scam artists, and people who are best described by Ben Kenobi, thusly: "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious."
Two of my friends were completely taken by different con men in the week I've been here, and I saw it happen once. Even though my spidey sense was going off like crazy, I convinced myself that I was just being paranoid, and it cost my friends a few hundred dollars. Though it didn't cost me any money, it certainly cost me a sense of security and threatens my entire sense of believing that people are basically good. I feel really dirty and violated, and I can't get this one guy's face out of my head, probably because I'd like to see him end up face down in the desert, after digging a hole with his bare hands and begging for mercy.
Yeah, it's shocking to me that I can even think that way, especially over a few hundred dollars, but it's true. I'd really like to watch this pile of shit suffer. I didn't know I had that in me, and maybe it's heightened because I'm very open to emotions (mind and other people's) because I'm completely The Writer while I'm here, but knowing that I would smash another human's face in with a brick until it's unrecognizable if given the chance isn't the most comforting feeling in the world, you know?
So yesterday, as we walked down a hallway at the Rio, I told my friend Pauly, "You know what? I'm done giving people the benefit of the doubt, and I have my shields set to maximum right now. If I don't personally know you, or you're not personally vouched for by one of the ten people I know here who I implicitly trust, you can just go fuck yourself."
A pretty girl passed us going the other way, and she smiled at me and said "Hello."
I smiled back, and said, "Hi." You know, just being polite. Then I thought, "Wait a minute. What does that fucking bitch want from me?"
I involuntarily put my hand on my pocket to protect my wallet, even though she hadn't come within fifteen feet of us. We walked about five more steps, and I said to Pauly, "Hi? Wait. I take that back. I don't know you, so go fuck yourself."
I've been exposed to the darkness in others while I've been here, and as a result I have had a glimpse at the darkness that I didn't know existed in myself, and didn't exactly want to find. Who knew that it would only cost a few hundred dollars of someone else's money to find it?
Two of my friends were completely taken by different con men in the week I've been here, and I saw it happen once. Even though my spidey sense was going off like crazy, I convinced myself that I was just being paranoid, and it cost my friends a few hundred dollars. Though it didn't cost me any money, it certainly cost me a sense of security and threatens my entire sense of believing that people are basically good. I feel really dirty and violated, and I can't get this one guy's face out of my head, probably because I'd like to see him end up face down in the desert, after digging a hole with his bare hands and begging for mercy.
Yeah, it's shocking to me that I can even think that way, especially over a few hundred dollars, but it's true. I'd really like to watch this pile of shit suffer. I didn't know I had that in me, and maybe it's heightened because I'm very open to emotions (mind and other people's) because I'm completely The Writer while I'm here, but knowing that I would smash another human's face in with a brick until it's unrecognizable if given the chance isn't the most comforting feeling in the world, you know?
So yesterday, as we walked down a hallway at the Rio, I told my friend Pauly, "You know what? I'm done giving people the benefit of the doubt, and I have my shields set to maximum right now. If I don't personally know you, or you're not personally vouched for by one of the ten people I know here who I implicitly trust, you can just go fuck yourself."
A pretty girl passed us going the other way, and she smiled at me and said "Hello."
I smiled back, and said, "Hi." You know, just being polite. Then I thought, "Wait a minute. What does that fucking bitch want from me?"
I involuntarily put my hand on my pocket to protect my wallet, even though she hadn't come within fifteen feet of us. We walked about five more steps, and I said to Pauly, "Hi? Wait. I take that back. I don't know you, so go fuck yourself."
I've been exposed to the darkness in others while I've been here, and as a result I have had a glimpse at the darkness that I didn't know existed in myself, and didn't exactly want to find. Who knew that it would only cost a few hundred dollars of someone else's money to find it?
posted by Wil Wheaton at 3:54 PM
2 Comments:
You know... Men PMS too... It's called Irritable Male Syndrome!
Check the Wiki
and this article/interview: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8962022/site/newsweek
On the other hand, you could be totally right...
Prior to Vegas, you probably walked around believing in the basic goodness of people because you are good and would no more hurt, con or steal from anyone. Its a shot in the arm when you witness something so full of ill intent directed toward an innocent by a piece of shit. It will make the blood boil- it should. What they did to your friends simply put was not fair.
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