I couldn’t really decide what to title this blog. On Being Too Gullible? On Being Too Generous With Others? Too Kind (no one can ever be too kind!)? Too Sensitive, Too Present, Too There For Others? Too Easily Hurt By Stupid Social Media Non-etiquette?
I realized quickly that all of these potential blog titles can really only mean one thing: I’m too much for certain people. And right now it sucks.
I’m an emotional wreck for the DUMBEST FUCKING REASON at current but no, my friends, I won’t admit the source of the problem. Yes, I am breaking my rule of complete honesty, just this once. Doing so for several reasons:
- I don’t want to offend anyone (not that ‘anyone’ reads my blog to begin with, still)
- It won’t matter in the grand scheme of things
- It is a stupid thing to feel hurt over
- I’ll move on eventually
Those are four solid reasons, I believe, as to why I am keeping this nasty upset close to my chest. If what I wrote above isn’t a list of things you can relate to or understand, I’m sorry. Truly, I am. Check back in a day or so for more positive, open-minded blogs.
Again though, it’s the first and hopefully only time I’ll be tight-lipped about an issue, and besides, you can rest assured it’s not that big of a deal anyway.
What I’m trying to say is this: the phrase It is what it is applies fairly well here.
I’m too fucking nice, too fucking present and without fail I always show up whenever someone needs me. Emotionally if not physically, at least. And I’ve been this way for the last decade or so because of self-esteem troubles that stem from my struggles with weight.
Pause: this blog is NOT going to be about my being overweight. I’m mentioning it because it plays into my current psychological state, is all.
You see, I have this thought in my head that because I’m fat (my view on things) I am less of a person. That because I weigh more than I did when I was an 18 year old, my need to be liked and loved and appreciated is worse now than it ever was back then. That if I allow people to see the real me, they won’t like the person I truly am.
But that’s the trick–this IS the real me. I’m a giant nerd, I love to write fanfic and watch Star Wars over and over again and drive A nuts in the process. I answer twitter DMs in lightening fast speed because I don’t want the person on the other end thinking I don’t care about what they say by making them wait. I tweet positive vibes because the world is full of deplorable, terrible shit and 9/10 times no one gives a fuck because they have their own lives and that’s how it should be.
But on day’s like today, it bothers me. Bothers me so bone-deep that I take to spatting words out on the internet (this blog) in response.
I’m angry and disenchanted and feeling so far off the reservation emotionally that my wheels are spinning plumes. I need inspiration or a break from day to day. I need routine, too, and a regimen that I adhere to like glue. I need to start shooting again and do a podcast and finish my novel and run everyday and earn more money and plan travels and blah blah BLAH. I need so many things that aren’t a part of my life right now but should be, for one reason or another.
Sure, all of these are most definitely #firstworldproblems and I KNOW THIS OKAY. I know it. Don’t preach to me right now, it’ll fall onto deaf ears.
I feel this way *because *of the social media nonsense that sparked it all. SOCIAL FREAKING MEDIA. << sigh >> But it’s no surprise how I’m feeling, really, considering I have this nasty habit of taking one problem and mounting all other outstanding issues atop it. Like a human do, I guess. But it serves no higher purpose but to upset me more and so, here we are.
I need a chill pill. Is that a thing kids still say these days? Fuck if I know, or care. I just need something to calm down and see the bigger picture.
Apologies on being a human being with real emotions. I’m not condescending, either.
I’d really rather be a robot right now.