A peek into an antisocial arsehole

I'm not a fan of people. I don't like listening to endless stories of self worth or self pity, I don't like lies and all humans can't help but tell an abundance of them, and I hate falseness. No, I despise it. Not to say I don't enjoy the company of others at times, of course I do, but I like to choose who that company is and when I am going to be a part of it, (or allow them to be a part of mine).

This terrible urge and need to be alone is why writing has always suited me. The solidarity and loneliness of being sat in my PJs, hair up and knotted, coffee steaming, my dog staring at me through my pane glass in the garden as she shits and the seventeenth paw of the day from my cat telling me to tell my birds to shut the eff up, is exactly why writing is the perfect job for me. Which of course is why I got a job as a housekeeper. Makes sense.

20 hours a week of being surrounded by other people; women to be precise, with their bitchy comments, two faced looks and backstabbing attitudes. 20 hours of customers asking for extra chocolate and making up some story about how their husband ate them all, yet all the while I know they are here alone. 20 hours of endless bed changes, towel changes, shit stains, blood stains, socks being removed from smoke detectors and pointing out where the toilet is for the twelth time that day.

Yes, because there is nothing less than solitude working with a room full of the very people you have grown to hate right? Ok, maybe hate is a bit of a strong word...loathe, let's say loathe.

Of course I am being completely unfair and unjust, judging a group of people I hardly know, women in particular who I recognise to be strong, independent workers, who are grinding and hustling their way through everyday to put food on the table for themselves and their kids. Who work on their feet 20 plus hours a week at work and then another 20 plus hours in the home and not to mention the shopping, errands and the time they take to put on their face and remember their self worth. I admire these women...I just don't like them.

But, it's not because I am not a people person, I am. I just like to choose when I am. I am a mother, wife, daughter, grandaughter, sister and so on. But, I don't even like to be them half of the time. (Sure, bad mum judge me...I would). I of course love all of these people, I just prefer to be on my own.

I could spend endless time with my daughter, my partner and definitely my mum. But, my daughter is 12...12. How much can I really have in common with a tik tok watching, YouTube short, know all, gacha loving preteen? How much am I expected to enjoy picking up my partners endless socks that seem to have created a safe cave at the bottom of our bed to hide in on laundry day, only to reappear again the day after I have finished. My mum is the one person I can tolerate on a daily basis without whining and that's because she's like me... she doesn't like people.

We are social creatures when it suits. Pipe down the judgement just a tad.

I remember some early memories of head butting my uncle when I was only 18 months old because he kept putting his face in mine. I remember punching my mums boyfriend in a make believe boxing match when I was 4, and not stopping because he wouldn't stop mocking me. I remember breaking an ex boyfriends nose when I was a preteen, because he tried to hug me when I didn't want him to...

I think I had a problem...

But all of these are just examples of the way I didn't like people taking the piss out of me and I still don't. (Only now I tell them with words not fists!)

So my little message to you all is, you don't have to like people to admire them. You don't have to 'fake it to make it' just work towards the making it. You don't have to do anything less than loathe your fellow man as you appreciate them and you should only ever be real in a world full of fake.

Thank you for reading my work and I hope you enjoyed my brutal honesty. Show the love and how about a tip if I rubbed you up the right way?