It’s not that I don’t believe what you, it’s just that the words you’re saying don’t mean what you think they mean. You’re telling me with no sense of irony that this person is too nice, and that this is a reason not to not peruse a relationship or even friendship with them. What you seem to mean is that they bore you, lack assertiveness, lack the emotional experience to deal with your crazy moments, aren’t behaving in a manner considered cool, don’t dress in accordance with your particular sub-cultural preference, just don’t get it and they don’t make you perspire behind the knees with toe curling desire. I’m not blaming you for thinking the word applied here but it is just a little misleading. Despite popular belief, none of these attributes have anything much to do at all with how nice a person is. You don’t look at someone and think, that person would totally drive me to the airport on their only day off in a fortnight, how repulsive.
I know the self proclaimed Nice don’t help much, with that not actually being nice thing. It seems their idea of nice is just as messed up as yours. Maybe they’ve been told they’re too nice and now they believe it, despite their fundamental lack of empathy or consideration for the hopes and feelings of others. That and their plain shitty outlook on life. I can see that if they’ve been told at some point that they’re too nice, it does seems a lot like an open invitation to become the most jaded asshole they always had the potential of becoming. We sure could do with a whole lot less of those people in this world. The worst are those who think the world has done wrong by them so they should act accordingly in retaliation.
I’d personally like everyone to be super cool to each other, help each other out in times of need with no immediate expectations, just the hope that putting good into the world will make it a cooler place to live. I’m thinking about teachers and all the awesome work they put in to help the next generation not imminently become criminals. I’m thinking about the grocery store lady who lets me buy three pears when I’m 5c short. I’m thinking about that friend in highschool who wouldn’t draw on your face when you passed out. While the world is largely jaded these people are awesome and nice and we shouldn’t make being nice to be any less desirable. In fact I’m going to put my and up and say it. I want to make out nice people, pretty much all the time. And can you imaging if our politicians were nice people with good intentions? Can you even imagine?
Here. Here’s a picture I hope represents who I want you to think I am. It’s me at my best. Or at least it’s me pretending not to be my worst. In truth it’s shallow and false and it’s all for you. But not the real you, just the you that I think I see when you’re just trying to show the best representation of you. And why wouldn’t you, when all you see is the best of me twice filtered through tried and tested algorithms that make extra sure it’s the best of me always looking back at you? How can we possibly compare, not only to others, but our own false image?
Where it once felt as though representation was pure, an expression of self untethered to the weight of the body we are suck with, now it feels heavier than any object that would not crush the marrow from these bones.