Hello? Are you there? Are you reading this? Really? Because I ain’t heard from you in fucking forever. I’ve got to address something that’s been bugging me and damn the consequences. Let’s see if I can put this succinctly.
There is a line surrounding me. It’s invisible, but it’s there. It’s my ‘let you in’ line. Once you worm your way past my defenses and reach it, you’re in. I consider you a friend. Doesn’t matter if our communication is purely online; if you’ve crossed the line, you’re a buddy. Not many people make it past my mine fields, so IF you make it I’ll be a fierce friend, defending you and keeping you close for life.
Recently, though, I’ve been feeling betrayed. One such person I let in has now dropped all communication with me. I’m fairly sure I know why: I let her in too close, she couldn’t handle it, and she flipped out. When I say ‘it’, I mean my artwork. Yep. She heard my music and either (1) hated it so much that she felt she could never say anything again to me or (2) it scared the living shit out of her which then led her to feel that she could never say anything again to me. Don’t know. All I know is I got chicken feathers to wipe up in my personal fucking space.
That happens to me. Don’t know if it happens to other people. Don’t know if Britney Spears ever had someone blow her off just because they didn’t like her music. Maybe. Probably not. Money and fame like Britney’s can buy a lot of loyalty. Or at least a lot of sucking up.
And NO, it’s not you, Kim. Or you, Lola. Please don’t think it is.
My friend Blah (a REAL friend, who responds to my crazy 4 a.m. messages with quirky little comebacks that make me laugh) tells me not to worry. That this phenomena – hot then cold running messages – is something the tribe does. I’m not so sure. Because other people have done this to me.
Shall I count them? Let’s see….I’d guess the tally around 30 something, at a minimum; those are just the ones I know about. I’m sure there’s plenty of others who never even bothered to try and talk to me in the first place, who just thought ‘she sucks’ and then turned away.
Here’s what’s really turning my crank, though. I didn’t SHOVE my stuff on her, she asked. As usual. I don’t shove my music full stop. Most of the fucking time I won’t even talk about it. But when you take the fucking time to fucking ASK me and then say nothing, I have only one reply: fuck you, and the horse you rode in on.
Fuck you for your gutless reaction. Fuck you for not being able to be honest with me. Fuck you for pretending to be my friend, then saying nothing to me for fucking months. You’re a gutless wonder, the wonder being why so many people continue to follow your blog and get fooled that the person behind it really has ANY balls whatsoever. Cursing online doesn’t make you fucking brave.
I really don’t think it would have been so fucking difficult to say ‘gee, you’ve got a lot of stuff but I didn’t hear anything that I really liked’. See? Not so fucking difficult. I think you could have fucking managed some fucking version of it.
The very worst of all this is I’m kicking myself. Hard. Should have NEVER believed anything. Should have NEVER let the links to my work out. Never, ever, ever. I guess if you don’t stumble on my artwork and fucking SURVIVE hearing it – despite how low grade and stupid it is – you should never even KNOW I do anything. Goddamn mother fucking bullshit! AAAARRRRGH!
Okay, so I’m being triggered. So would you if you were standing in my shoes.
My fucking irritation is ramped up today. Paradoxically, I slept in ’til 6:30. Like, get me rested and then I’m strong enough to let my anger out. Goddamn. No fucking wonder I keep myself on the skinny with sleep if THIS is what fucking happens when I get a few more fucking hours of fucking rest.
Been irritated since my first counseling appointment if I’m honest. That irritation has just been growing and spreading. I guess my subconscious won’t let go of the idea that I didn’t speak up for myself, even though I’ve made concrete plans to take control of the situation. I’m fucking irritated with the entire goddamn world. Or maybe it’s just hypomania. Or any of the other rainbow colors of mental un-health that they’re gonna slap on me and focus on.
Didn’t help that yesterday I kept watching the clock as I worked in the studio. I ended up doing editing work – taxing shit that takes patience. As you may be able to tell, my supply of patience is running low right now (and it’s getting fucking lower with each and every goddamn fucking typo I make!!!!!!). Only got half way through what I need to do. Didn’t feel good about that, but I shut down anyway. Doing a half assed job on what I need to do just because I’m fucking antsy won’t cut it. Not on this stuff.
What I DID do was make dinner and clean up the dishes. Playing chef for the night was fun, tho I kept apologizing so much for the dish I made because it wasn’t perfect that my bro ended up making fun of me over it. That’s fine; he made me laugh at myself. And he thanked me profusely for my time and efforts, even going back at 8 to grab a sandwich from the left overs. That made me feel good, and like I want to give it a go again sometime soon. I also managed to run some errands earlier in the day, so despite my anger and irritation I made an effort.
I guess that’s a victory for me. Why doesn’t it feel that way?