Sancho: The Betrayal

I've been backstabbed. My most trusted thoughts and feelings, my actions as well, have been found out, blatantly revealed even! I am vulnerable. And the backstabber, the betrayer, my Iago, will be punished. Oh yes! For I keep loyalty high on my list for all around me, trust not given voluntarily, but earned. Numerous times during my short life I've been betrayed, sometimes with the truth, other times not, and it has resulted in a rage. And people wonder why I'm a cynic.
For the very thing that has crossed me is you—YOU, my public blog. I curse you and your access via the Internet, your World Wide Webness. Why can't you be more like the school district computers, who keep you locked up behind a red screen, guarded by a cartoony police officer blowing a whistle—ACCESS DENIED!

It all came out in the open recently. An angry phone message, which I was allowed to listen to. Indignation (of the righteous type is debatable) spewed from the phone, due to most likely two sentences, maybe even phrases typed on this here site. The Counselor's husband, who has publicly been revealed to all as [the husband], knows of this blog. A list of demands was given to the Counselor, of which each will be followed, for she, to my parents' chagrin, is ultimately responsible for me.
But my blog, which I assume has been checked by [the husband] since the past Autumn or Winter, has been giving away my secrets, my goings on, my extra-marital activities, if you will.
At first I was concerned. Since adolescence, I became obsessed with the back-talk that occurred around me. It's not that I mind being discussed, because after all, if I come up as a topic of conversation, I must be important enough to even be mentioned. "Matt. He's an asshole." "Matt. That fucker." "Matt. Gosh, he's a keen looker." Any way it goes, I'm important somewhere else.
What I do mind is knowing what people know about me. And since the blog betrayed me and my forthrightness, I decided to take a look at my dossier, find out how full it is, what information this site, this foundation on which the World Wide Web rests, has on me. Then we'll also see what [the husband] and the globe knows about me.

1. I'm a liberal.
2. I love me some hockey.
   
3. I am either not a virgin or I'm pretending to not be.
   
4. I don't care for traditional Thanksgiving main courses.
5. I am not a fan of that whole racism stuff.
6. I watch movies and, after which, I think about them.
7. Bad words are bad in my childhood home.
8. I can be sensitive in regards to love.
9. I have a fondness for things that make me feel like a child again.
10. I have problems.
11. I am critical.
12. I play video games.
13. I owe my grandfather BIG TIME.
14. I don't like George W. I think he's the worst President ever.
15. I sometimes have problems at work.
16. I can set goals and reach them, or sometimes not.
17. I got involved with a married woman, first emotionally, then more so.
18. I was raised Catholic and was even into prayers.
19. I am poorer than I used to be.
20. I have a brother, who was partially responsible for making me an Uncle/Tio.
21. I chaperone prom.
22. I have 2 brothers and a sister.
23. I have parents and grandparents.
24. I have a good friend named Mica.
25. I have a sense of humor.

Well, that's what this blog knows, the fucker. I'm going to get it back. I will unleash a fury unseen since Medea got dumped.
Maybe it would be best to simply write a memoir and get it published because nobody reads books anymore. All they like to read is stuff that they know is going to upset them. Are these people masochists? Do they search for pain? If they look for any of that here, then all they're doing is making not just me, but my words, that much more important. I wrote it once before: now I know how Howard Stern must feel.