He’s just a teenage dirtbag…she’s such a pita

As a baby there exists the land of innocence where nothing is defined yet and they are oblivious to the adult world. Eventually, we scrape our knees, get in trouble, ask lots of questions, do things we shouldn’t, lie, cheat, steal, etc. and everything and I mean everything changes. In the world, each person has someone they really don’t like or they know everyone says is bad news. Nobody grows up planning on being a jerk, a dirtbag, (feel free to finish my sentence), I think society and our own psyche would like to label whoever we can and classify based on personal experiences and attribute them to what we think this person really is like. Some women, I guilty as charged, spend time on the gossip train, talking about how much we don’t like a certain, guy or girl and everything in your life, your day and whatever is going on is suddenly affected by said person, even if they had absolutely nothing to do with it.. Or you are so addicted about talking about that person its almost grossly borderline unhealthy. I don’t want to hate anyone, because that is quite a strong word. What fascinates me, is this, if said individual has left a bad taste in our mouth( figure of speech, keep it clean), we relate this to, not liking them either via heartbreak, lack of communication, our own stresses, their appearance and or stature, and automatically by default deem this person to be what we think they are. At the time, whatever happened is well it’s terrible, and you really hate that person, and you won’t forgive them so you just keep going down the ‘let’s talk about so-and-so’ again and maybe I will feel better and let go if we do. Third party outsider, experienced it and now looking in, believe me it doesn’t work. It doesn’t change that yes you may run into said person every day, or at some point. You really don’t like them, or is it only because you can’t handle they seem to have some power over you, are these: you aren’t in control of situation, you don’t know the outcome so therefore you panic, you overanalyze the facts; maybe it really has nothing to do with you, you are hurt, and expect them to be too, or you want them to just not be them anymore. I’ve known a few dirtbags, and a few pitas in my life. I still cringe or tear when I think of them, or even hide when I know they are there; that my friend is cowardice or maybe its truly pain...could be. So, they ripped you scar or a wound, or a nightmare the size of Texas (exaggerating for effect, stand by, or stop reading) it doesn’t mean you are ruined. Scars and wounds heal overtime, and nightmares well one analysis trip at a time. These people hurt too, they really do, and usually their actions are a cry for help, or simply getting attention amd you want attention when you talk about them,. Yes, I know, duh you already know, but if you knew, you wouldn’t be spending so much time thinking about how they have done you wrong, but just praying for them, or in some twisted ways want to be around them or be present for more dirt let the man up there handle it. Yeah they are pretty awful and low aren’t they, and what they did or supposedly didn’t do, didn’t feel good. It doesn’t matter who you are, nine times out of ten, even if not said out loud, certain things get to people. I know because I let someone take over my thoughts about myself, and who I am, because I wanted to please them. I really thought they were a big fat snake (which I am deathly afraid of snakes fyi), I was jealous, still feel it and caught in the wake. They messed up and I did too.  Our circumstances being what they are, nobody knows what is going to happen, but if I can recover from a storm, or a nasty temptation or the wounds, then I trust eventually when I see or come across this person, it won’t sting as much, and I pray one day, maybe not tomorrow, these people won’t be such dirtbags or pitas, and if not, pray from aside and free ourselves if we will from this burden of trying to explain, decipher, or fix said jerk. Moxie signing off, ready to overcome on step at a time.