Can I, just for once, be able to indulge in a quickie? Please?!

No, Of course not.

I mean I manage to do it with my poetry, well that’s not entirely accurate. The words are few but the journey to those few is long and winding.

Let me explain. Just now I was in the middle of sharing another Dear Reader to you all and I couldn’t just take dictation from what was downloading in my head; write it as I hear it. I always feel the need to paint a complete picture of what’s happening or give a back story of what I am sharing due to my ever-present, I-thought-I-dealt-with-this-issue, fear of being misunderstood.

I have had experiences where I have gotten into very heated discussions and arguments with others who, at the time, continued to hear what they wanted to hear from what I was conveying. They took the words which exited my mouth, edited them as they traveled through the air towards their ears, then proceeded to be outraged or disgusted with what their brain processed. That type of exchange always left me feeling highly frustrated and hurt because it was so far from the truth of what I was sharing and it also demoted me from ‘sainthood’ (I say that with sarcasm).

See, I am about to repeat it. Now I am feeling to clarify my use of the phrase, “demoted me from sainthood.” Here is where I would insert an explanation of why I chose those words. In my mind, you all are wondering why I said that. Add those thoughts to my perception of always needing to explain myself to others who don’t get my flow, and we get wordiness, lots of drafts in my post section, and a limited presence here on WordPress. That trail of breadcrumbs leads to no one reading my shit, which leads to disappointment, and then I come back full circle to feelings of not being appreciated.


What I need to do is not give any number of fucks about it all and write what and how I want. But then, I think what’s the point of blogging if you don’t keep the perspective of your audience? Isn’t that the definition of journaling? If so, then just journal instead. When I write in my journal (which doesn’t often happen anymore either, said with eye-roll), I don’t have the same cares as when I am here blogging.

So what’s the solution?

I have no fucking idea.

I can wrap this up with the catch phrase of the era saying, “Just be yourself,” but this version of me is part of the whole of who I am (which, technically, is me being me…at least till I figure this shit out). So when you find yourself being yourself and said self, is a bit sucky, what do you do?

Accept it all and go with it unconditionally, or change it. Make a decision. Talk about the solution instead of complaining about the problem.

Right. Such utter bullshit (when you don’t want to listen).

“It just be like that for right now”, say I in my best English. I know I will choose acceptance, but for now, I choose to sit in my own shit.

Some quickie, huh?







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