Maybe. But I'm writing what I want to write about at the moment. There will always be worse and better writers than me. If they like what I do, many thanks. If they don't, they can always hire someone else. Or they can click on that X thingy at the top right corner of their browsers.
"You're really fat and ugly. And you're old. You should be ashamed to even step out of the house."
I know I have a snowball's chance in hell of ever making Playmate of the Month. Not that I ever wanted to. I know I could stand to lose a few extra inches here and there, but generally speaking, I'm fine with the way I look now. Thank you veddy fucking bloody much.
"They don't really appreciate you, you know. They're just using you because you're too fucking chickenshit to say no."
Maybe. But whatever it is I give to someone I love, I give from the heart.
Correct. To the majority of the world's billions, I don't exist. But to a handful of people, I AM somebody -- and I love them perhaps even more than they love me. So up yours.
The quotes in italics are from someone inside my head, someone who won't leave me alone. She isn't some Medusa with an ugly visage that's horrifying to behold. On the contrary, when I visualize her, I see someone with a terrifying beauty, someone who has the power to overcome me.
Her name is insecurity, and I've known her all my life.
I've managed to keep her at bay, keep her from totally subsuming my entire psyche. But I think she will always be there, somehow. That she will never, EVER leave me alone.
If I disappear once in a while, it's because I'm taking time off to deal with her (mental mud wrestling, if you like) -- to do battle with this seductive demon who knows me all too damn well. And who has no compunctions about (gleefully) saying: "I told you so" whenever I screw up.