The Cross Bearer

The Cross Bearer: The guy who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. In the hierarchy of men (working on it!), falls somewhere in the Hipster category. Yet, his problems are far deeper than the average hipster’s, as his are the problems of humanity.

You know this guy, we all do. If you think you’ve never met him, give yourself a pat on the back, as you are smart enough to disqualify him exactly for who he is: a miserable, brooding waste of time. He’s the guy standing in the corner of the party, face masked by greasy shrubbery, sulking like a a pubescent adolescent stuck in the terrible sixteens. He’s the guy who mostly grunts en lieu of normal communication, making mid-meltdown Joaquin Phoenix seem as put-together as Obama. He’s the guy your stupid naive friend is intent on “saving”, blaming his lack of life skills on the tragic childhood issues that have been plaguing him for the past 20+ years.

Ah yes, the tragic childhood issues. There are always plenty of those when the Cross Bearer is concerned. Mommy didn’t hug him enough, Daddy worked too much, Jessica from down the block ignored him, the family dog ran away when he was five. It doesn’t matter that far worse (i.e. REAL) things happened to others and they survived; his issues are boulders that he staggers along on his aching back through the arduous road called Life.

The Cross Bearer is not stupid. No-no-no, stupid people are usually happy, a term the Cross Bearer is not familiar with. The Cross Bearer is sensitive. He is aware. He knows that the world is fucked-up place, and this knowledge haunts him every step along the way, plaguing him with doubt and apprehension.  These insecurities are usually combined with an unmerited sense of superiority, making him even more of a conflicted mindfuck to be around. He wants a medal for waking up in the morning, another one for getting his ass to work, and a third one for doing the bare minimum of his job. Normal work being inferior to his heavenly being, he is usually involved in some random creative endeavor that he over-analyzes to the point of barely accomplishing anything. Instead, he looks down on those who do, hating all successful people for being greedy spawns of Satan, otherwise known as “sell-outs”.

The Cross Bearer always sees the glass half-empty. In fact, he usually sees it fully empty, drained and molding. Give him good news and he will find a way to put a negative spin on them. Ask him how his day went, and you will get a response that will make you want to source the closest bridge to nosedive from. His day is always shit. Life is always shit. Basically, the mere notion of being put on this earth as a homo sapien is almost more than he can bear.

And yet, there is something about the Cross Bearer that is addictive, in the same toxic way that drugs and cigarettes are addictive despite their ultimate demolishing quality. Maybe, for the quick, brief moments that he is happy, he is magnetically, contagiously happy. Maybe he is caring and great in bed. Or maybe, you are just one of these people who thrives on “saving”, and so you view him as a project, believing that your nurturing will “fix” him and indebt him to you until the end of time.

In that case, YOU BE DREAMIN’, GIRL.  Because what you don’t seem to understand about the Cross Bearer, is that this guy likes his misery. He doesn’t want to be saved. He enjoys his sadness, he basks in it and thrives on it an proliferates it in any way possible, using innocent bystanders, such as yourself, as his vehicles. So instead of saving him, SAVE YOURSELF and get out while you can!

Yeah yeah. You can thank me later.