Rambles I

Selfishness runs in my family. A healthy history of alcoholics left me nearly no choice. I have done my best to be a helper, a giver, a people pleaser. The funny thing about people pleasing, is that it’s also a selfish act. I want you to feel good, only in that way will I ever feel good. Trying to mitigate discomfort robs people of the dignity to feel it. Instead of being my true self, weird, overly friendly, sarcastic, I become someone else. Someone easily digestible. Fuck that! I don’t want to be friends with the normies! I want to attract people that like my weirdness, who want to love and be loved, who get my odd bits of humor. My circle is ever growing, and I am happy with the plants growing wild around me. One of the biggest challenges I face in maintaining my authenticity in social situations is my need to blend in AND stand out. I will take any opportunity to dress up in my fantasy attire (which I have many pieces for) These clothes also offer me a type of freedom, an expression of self I can cultivate. 

‘What’s your gender?’ 

‘Pirate.’ 

I feel like I need to write every Thursday, I mean I write about my day every night before I sleep or turn over and over until the light shines through my curtains. I used to write three pages, as per the instruction of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I never finished the book. I started writing and never picked it back up. I should. I should do a lot of things. The list of things is ever growing. ‘One day,’ I tell myself, ‘I will get to that.’ I kind of like that tomorrow isn’t promised. I feel that I am no longer angry with death, it could happen to me or anyone I love at any time. It has no bias. There is a phrase I have seen copied and pasted on social media with various cute animal and artistic backgrounds: “Maybe you don’t exist in the future you’re so worried about.”