I don't trust or love anyone. Because people are so creepy.
I don't trust or love anyone. Because people are so creepy. Creepy creepy creeps. Creeping around. Creeping here and creeping there. Creeping everywhere.
Hear, O seeker, the dark and anguished cry of Vincent Gallo: “I don’t trust or love anyone. Because people are so creepy. Creepy creepy creeps. Creeping around. Creeping here and creeping there. Creeping everywhere.” At first these words may sound like the bitter rant of a wounded man, but within them lies a deeper lament—an ancient warning about the fragility of trust, the corruption of human hearts, and the sorrow that follows betrayal. They remind us that when love is broken by deceit, suspicion arises, and the soul recoils from the world, seeing in every shadow a hidden danger.
The origin of such words is not found merely in the life of one man, but in the universal story of humanity’s disillusionment. From the first betrayal in Eden, when the serpent whispered lies into human ears, mankind has known that among us there are deceivers, manipulators, and the cunning-hearted. Gallo’s repetition of the word “creepy” reflects not only disgust but the eternal vigilance of a soul surrounded by hidden threats. His chant of “creeping here, creeping there” echoes like the voices of prophets crying against corruption, warning that evil rarely strikes openly but slithers silently, seeking to ensnare the unwary.
History testifies to this truth. Consider the fate of Julius Caesar, surrounded by those he thought allies, men who smiled at his side yet carried daggers beneath their robes. They crept near him with words of loyalty, but their creeping was betrayal. And when the blow fell, it was not the enemy’s hand that broke him, but the hands of supposed friends. This is the pain Gallo’s words embody: it is not only the existence of evil that terrifies, but its hiddenness, its ability to disguise itself in the cloak of friendship, affection, and trust.
Yet we must not dismiss his cry as mere cynicism. The ancients also recognized the danger of misplaced trust. The wise king Solomon warned, “The heart is deceitful above all things,” and the Greeks told tales of gods and mortals undone by trickery. To live blindly, believing all men good, is to invite ruin. There is wisdom in Gallo’s suspicion: it reminds us that the world is not filled only with the pure-hearted, and that discernment is the guardian of one’s soul.
But beware, O listener, lest suspicion become a prison. If a man closes himself completely, saying, “I will neither trust nor love,” he spares himself betrayal, but he also starves himself of life’s greatest treasures. For though some creep in shadows, others walk in light. Though betrayal is real, so too is loyalty. History bears witness to this as well: think of the bond between David and Jonathan, who defied kingdoms to remain true; think of the soldiers in war who lay down their lives for comrades, proving that even in a broken world, there are hearts worthy of trust.
The lesson is thus twofold: be vigilant, for not all who draw near are sincere; but also be courageous, for without love and trust, life becomes barren. Gallo’s words reveal the pain of a heart wounded by deceit, but they also warn us to tread wisely. We must learn to discern the creeping shadow from the steady flame, to test men by their deeds, not their words, and to guard our hearts without sealing them shut.
Practical wisdom follows. Test every bond with patience; do not give your deepest self to the unproven. Observe carefully, and let time reveal the true nature of others. But when you find the rare soul whose loyalty endures, open yourself with courage. For love, though risky, is the only force that redeems the creeping darkness of mankind. To live only in suspicion is to survive; to live in cautious trust is to flourish.
So remember Gallo’s bitter cry not as a command to abandon love, but as a warning of the danger of blind naivety. People may creep, yes—here and there, everywhere—but among the creeping, there are those who walk in light. Seek them, cherish them, and walk beside them. For though the world holds deception, it also holds fidelity, and only in trusting wisely can one escape despair and embrace the fullness of life.
GHGia Han
I find this quote a bit unsettling, but also somewhat relatable at times. People often exhibit behaviors that can be interpreted as ‘creepy,’ especially in situations where trust hasn’t been built. But I wonder—how much of this is a defense mechanism against past hurts or betrayals? Is it possible to trust others again if you’ve been hurt before, or do we start seeing ‘creepy’ behaviors even when they’re not there?
CHMi cha Hao
Vincent Gallo's words are pretty harsh, but it makes me wonder—do we all have moments where we feel this way about others? It seems like a deep form of distrust and discomfort, but is it possible that the ‘creepiness’ he mentions is a reflection of personal boundaries being violated or unmet needs? How do we differentiate between healthy skepticism and outright paranoia? Is there a healthy way to protect ourselves from others without shutting them out completely?
MTNguyen Manh Thang
I can see that Gallo’s quote might be an expression of his disillusionment or perhaps past hurt. Trust is so central to human connection, yet this quote reflects the opposite—fear and avoidance. What drives someone to feel this way, and is it possible to break free from such a mindset? Do people truly act in a ‘creepy’ way, or is it our own fears and insecurities that amplify their behavior in our minds?
XPNguyen Xuan Phat
Gallo’s statement seems pretty extreme, but it might speak to a deeper, more universal fear of vulnerability. People often feel ‘creepy’ or uncomfortable when they don’t understand others or when they’re afraid of being hurt. Is this quote an exaggeration of a common human feeling, or is it a reflection of deeper emotional issues? How can someone begin to open up again after feeling like this, and is it even possible to trust others after this kind of mindset?
TXnguyen thi thanh xuan
This quote seems to capture a lot of frustration and perhaps even fear towards people. I wonder—why does Vincent Gallo feel this way about everyone? Are we all ‘creeping’ in some sense, or is it a projection of his own distrust and anxiety? How do we balance caution with openness in relationships? It’s hard to relate to, but it makes me reflect on how our past experiences shape our perceptions of others.