this one goes out to all the insecure bitches

there’s so much about my fellow humans i do not understand.

one of them is people’s willingness to share things they create willingly, freely, as though it’s not a complete and utter threat to their personhood.

sharing on the internet is easy because i don’t know y’all and in all reality, a maximum of 5 people will ever read this.

but people i know.. that’s another story.

i’ve been realizing more and more how unlike my peers i am with more conversations along the lines of,

“hey, i want you to read my play. i’m going to send it to you.”

or “hey, i’m going to send you this article my friend wrote.”

or “hey, here are some photos i took yesterday.”

and i’m like wow, so people just like, create things and then share them with people they know.. it honestly continues to perplex me.

early on in my Medium days, when i took myself much more seriously and thought i might actually “make it,” i’d share things i wrote on facebook. you know, reflective pieces on life lessons i’d picked up along the way.

and then i started writing more, i guess you would call them “controversial” pieces, and after a couple of posts with less than 5 likes, i was out.

see, what y’all need to understand is: i’m a hairpin’s length away from completely hating myself. so the most minor rejection, even one that takes place on the virtual sphere, is beyond devastating. it’s crippling. it makes my stomach churn and avoid my computer for days on end.

ya i know, it’s sad and pitiful and let me clear: it’s not a quality i love. the unwillingness to put myself out there has pretty much sealed my fate as a non-writer on this platform.

i won’t pitch, i won’t try, i won’t share. i just fucking won’t.

because writing is a thing i do to let my thoughts out so they stop running wild in my head and i can feel a little better about myself and my seemingly meaningless existence. and when that comes under scrutiny, it makes me not want to do it anymore. and i sure as hell don’t want that.

so, in an effort to, i don’t know, grow(?) i sent a recent writing thing to a friend to read. you know, i’m brene brown-ing this bitch and making myself vulnerable.

2 1/2 hours later and no response, nothing. no feedback, no “oh wow, cool” throwaway comment.

and now i’m ready to throw my computer into a non-existent lake (have i mentioned i live in a desert?)

so fuck me, right? this is why i suck at this.

because i don’t want to have to “prove” i’m a writer. or that i’m good at this. or that i’m worthy of people’s eyes scanning a page for a matter of minutes before moving onto something else and then forgetting about it forever.

the internet is packed full of shit people could be reading. and i’m not going to sit here and try to convince you that i’m it. cause fuck, y’all, there’s a lot better shit out there. like a lot better.

but even so, don’t i still get this teeny tiny corner of the internet to fuck around and say the shit i want to say?

i mean, do i need to be validated to be valid?

god, i would so love validation..

anyway, i think i’ve run out of steam on this ramble.

long story short: write if you want to fucking write. share if you want to share. and fuck everything else.

in end, i don’t do this for the accolades. i do it for the 2 claps i get every 6 posts, alright??