Friday, April 17, 2015

Fuck Me Time

Disclaimer – this is an unbelievably negative post. Please do not proceed with any cheerful goal in mind. I am stream-of-consciousness writing this. And I’m going to get it out…. Damn it.


I am utterly repulsed with people telling me to ‘take time for myself’ or ‘enjoy just being me’ or ‘learn to love you’ or 'you should be single for awhile.' 

Bullshit

     Bullshit

          BULLSHIT.

It sickens me - because I do not like to ‘live for me.’ Granted, this sounds bizarre and self-sacrificial, but fuck it. I have no damn desire to get back to loving me. To clarify - I have never not loved me. I think I am fine. I have my flaws, just like every other Joe-god-damn-blow, but I don’t need or want months or years to re-discover some non-existent passion for who I am. Like I said – fuck that. I like who I am. Twenty year olds need this after a so-called- life-changing event. I do not.

Besides, selfishness is something I already feel I have too much of in my life. I feel selfish about narcissistic and superficial things, furniture, clothing, activities. I don’t want to be selfish with ‘me time’ when I take too much of it up. Outside of that, just being sociable makes me feel better. FUCK ‘me’ time. (side note: wine also makes me feel better, so if you have any motive at the end of reading this shitty piece, let it be to buy me a dry white or red wine).

I take pleasure in the enjoyment of being taken out of the swirling demons in my head who tell me I am not good, pretty or intelligent amongst a slew of other negative criticisms and pejoratives that continuously mock and prod me. Yes, I am that dramatic. Swirling demons. Just call me Sylvia-fucking-Plath. However - please do not focus too much on this paragraph – we all have demons that surround us, or rain clouds over our heads. Don’t pity me. I am just vocalizing the fact they exist. Socializing and moving on is how I elect to manage them.

Ironically, seeking reassurance or confirmation to the contrary of the criticisms is also something I do not actively seek. I would rather just be a good person for other people. I don’t like to talk about it. Not to you, random select individual. I don’t want to re-hash the good, the bad or the anything with you. Let’s talk about Daredevil instead.

And apparently this is bad. Not taking ‘time for me’ is bad. Not talking it out is bad. This evidently means that I am not taking an adequate amount of time to process this. Meh, screw off.

NOTE: I am not condemning the people who care about me and want the best for me. I love them sincerely – and I hope, if they still read this shallow, superficial blog, that they have made it far enough into this damning post to realize that each and every one of them are special, unique and I adore everything they have done for me. I love that they are there for me. I am filled with joy that they are in my lives. I shouldn't feel I should have to clarify this for them, but, as I have been told, my 'soft-hearted nature' is a weakness. A soft-hearted-nature which is seemingly non-existent in this post.

But as for the rest of society - I am not a porcelain China Doll. I am sick of being told ‘oh, I’m so sorry’ or that ‘I will find someone else.’ Here’s the black and white of it: I may never find anyone else. And NO ONE likes to think that this may be true, but it is a very, very real statement. It may not happen. And I made my decision. Do I regret it? I don’t know yet. Maybe? Regardless - I made it and now I live with it. Just like the many other things in my life I live with and cannot take back.

So, please do not treat me like I am a child, a widow, an invalid or a person to be pitied. I am none of these things. Please do not infer that I need to recuperate after ‘such a change.’

I know what I want. I know what I cannot have. I also know my limitations. I implore you to stop telling me they do not exist. Random individual reading this blog – please know, you do not know my life, struggles, passions or self. So, if you run into me at the coffee shop, bar or on the street. Don’t talk about me. I hate talking about me. Let’s talk about you. You’d like that wouldn’t you?

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