au contraire mon frere

I am a contrarian. I’m not really bad, like I don’t claim the sky is purple when everyone else says it’s blue. I don’t say Bobby Brown is the king of R&B or anything crazy like that. I’m not an atheist or agnostic; I have a firm faith in God. But I love to argue. For arguments sake. It’s an adrenaline rush. It serves the up side of my bipolar.

I even love to do it with my closest friends. Cause they are so smart, and their arguments are so good.

But they don’t like it so much.

I have been seriously checked by three close friends about my contrary attitude. Like karate-chopped-to-the-neck checked. Like, “why would you say that if you’re my friend” checked. Like, “you’re becoming the Hare Krishna” of a certain topic and “we hate it when you’re around” checked. And “I don’t want to engage with you cuz you always disagreeing with me” checked.

It’s sad when your friends don’t want to talk to you because it’s tiresome to do so. It’s also sad when you realize that your personality isn’t as great as you thought it was. One friend tried to soften the blow by saying, “everyone has their quirks” but I’d rather my quirk be that I snort when I laugh rather than I’m mad argumentative and don’t know when to shut up or let something go.

But hopefully three times a charm (this last checking was just yesterday) and I’ve learned my lesson. At least with friends. Cuz’ I did just have to let loose on this clown from high school over email about some racist bull-ish….(I would link to it but it’s THAT ignant that I can’t send traffic that way…)

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