In this unwanted essay, I will explain why Jeff, the epitome of an asshole from Mississippi, is my least favourite ever, which can be summed up in one succinct statement: I know exactly how Gary felt, my own shithead from the ‘Sip included because clearly my life is an unfunny cosmic joke.
Sure, we get a court side seat to the whole thing because that’s the book, but ima tell you that I felt the shit between the lines on a molecular level as real as anything I’ve ever felt in my whole life and it gutted me.
How someone with BPD (either form, bipolar or borderline) winds up the fucking cuck in their own life to make everyone else happy. To hide their struggles because no one gets them. How easily people use our fear of rejection and hurt over shit we can’t control to manipulate us and fuck us around like we’re just little pieces in a knock-off board game. The way we’re disposable, always the bridesmaid, never the bride. The guilt and shame from knowing if we let anyone see even a single strong emotion from us, it’s gonna go sideways every time. How we’re treated like unruly, silly children who are simple and need to be condescended and placated, then told to grow the fuck up when we lash out because “we aren’t fucking kids” and the gentle parenting-shtick is overdone and dry.
And we open ourselves to these fucking jerks easily because we have been brainwashed into believing it’s the best we’re ever gonna do for ourselves because no one wants our brand of crazy, right?
Foh with that bullshit. We deserve better than narcissistic fuck-offs and sociopathic losers/users, Gareth. He put himself so far out there for that man and got literal scraps in thanks. Ew.
Ugh. Poor Gary. Precious, wonderful bb that he is. Fuck Jeff. I bet Jeff is from Adams county. Or fucking Starkville or something. That Gary felt bad for doing what he thought he was supposed to do to keep Jeff happy and in his life enraged me so much I had to stop and count backwards from a hundred just to finish. I don’t buy it, Jeffy. I think you just realised too late that you fucked up and your save there at the end didn’t fool me. I seent you. Dick.
Anyhow, it was painfully—yet still delightfully—accurate. And I’m happy that Gary is happy, because I’m not an asshole. I loved it because I love the voice this author brings to his work. I enjoy the style and I see the vision, I just get too deep about shit. I will note that a car and a truck are still not interchangeable even if you hop countries, which is forever going to be a scab I pick at, but it’s just my thing. It annoys me because I start to question myself over whether I misread or not and wind up backtracking more than progressing.
[Hey! I learned a new thing! I take back what I said, though I still think it’s wild to call anything with an open bed a car, but disregard my stupid remarks. I know better now. I stand corrected, and I’m sorry that I didn’t know I was dumb in this case and said something dumb about shit I didn’t know. In case you didn’t know, ute and car actually can mean passenger trucks, because they laugh at us with our passenger trucks. Trucks there are our 18 wheelers here, not our passenger trucks. So. Learn new things with me if you need to.]
Like when folx call the ground the floor. No. Floor implies some sort of finish, even if it’s just hard-packed earth, in some sort of structure/domicile. The ground, the pavement, the driveway… not the floor. IRRELEVANT HERE—my god, shut my brain the FUCK up.
4.5/5. Regardless of my feels towards Jeff, and the truck versus car shit that I will never be able to accept (insert heinous side-eye here), this was wonderful. A couple of times I thought it might be a little wonky, but that could honestly just be me, so idk if that’s valid. What is valid is my og judgment of Jeff. Because I can’t ever say that he can go fuck himself enough times.