Wednesday, March 27, 2013

I just did my very first Facebook friend purge after hearing about some of the things people around town have been saying about me. Things that are not only none of their business, but have nothing to do with, well, anything.

But, you know? It genuinely makes some people feel good to say things they think are mean about people they don’t know. They need that validation. I never feel so… empowered?* than when someone takes the effort to visit my blog, talk about me to people who have never met me, formulate an insult about my personal life they have no business commenting on, and berating me behind my back.

Can you imagine spending your time that way? Can you even imagine being so basic? I literally can’t imagine that. I lit.er.al.ly cannot imagine being so boring. People never know where to hit you the hardest, which is weird because it’s staring all y’all right in the face. I make fun of myself for being alone all the time, I have crippling anxiety, I make fun of myself for being stupid. I don’t get why people think saying those very things back to me will make me feel bad? They just make me feel a little bit less good than the complimentary things people say to me. Because you’re still reading this! You’re really reading, you boring little people!

If people wanted to really hurt my feelings they could make fun of the innate anger I have to push down into my gut every day, or how I spent tens of thousands of dollars on a higher education to be a professional babysitter, or how I’m afraid of failure so much that it makes me feel powerless in my own life. FYI!

I do want to say that I’m sorry to the nice people who say nice things, who stand up for me, whose compliments I never acknowledge. It’s just that compliments from good people are so boring. I mean, keep giving them. They fuel the fake self-confidence I have to pump into my blood stream every morning just to muster up the courage to get out of my bed. Those and Young Money rap.

*Take this word and downgrade it 40%. Whatever the “empowered” version for something as silly as small town gossip is.

...After getting the dish on what former friends/lovers have been saying, I told Lindsay to bake up some dicks, and, well, I'm the ringleader of my own destiny.