There's this really cool thing that I have - called a forum. It's handy for things like bar conversations gone awry, or for airing out my dirty laundry.
The thing that I never account for though, is backlash. Mostly because I operate under the idea that the people that read this unsponsored space do so because they choose to. Because they like what I write. Or they like me. Or they at least know me. You don't just randomly type in my web address on a whim. I'm not over here talking about the latest fads or recipes. This? Over here? This is only my life. That's it. Nothing more. Nothing less. What I think. What's on my heart. That's it.
The thing about this forum - this space over here - is that I can cultivate it. You read what I WANT you to read. You see the pictures that I want you to see. It's just like any other form of social media.
Isn't that scary?
It's just like a person walking down the hallway. Just by looking at that person ... can you tell if they're having a good day? A good week? Month? Year? Probably not. But you'll still smile at them, right? Ask them how they are doing. And you'll accept their answer.
Don't you think that's kind of how it is over here? We're just two friends in a hallway. Most of the time, when I reach out and say hey - most of the time, people respond. Positively.
- Hey. I've been there.
- I see you.
- I get this so much, you have no idea.
- I love you.
It always surprises me when people lash out.
Though it shouldn't.
My mom often says there are three sides to every story. Your side. My side. And the truth. I've repeated that phrase so much over the last two years. So much.
Here's the thing that you may not realize when you hop over here:
You're only getting one side. And while what I write may seem personal, while it may seem like you're getting a feel for my life - I assure you, that's not always the case.
My post - "On Closing Your Mouth More" - stirred up some interest (and that'd be putting it mildly). People that don't typically ... found their way over to my space. And curious, they read my words. I could almost feel their heads cranking to the side ... picturing. Wondering. Assuming.
Eyes in my general direction.
Imagined plots thickening in their heads.
I chose to write about a feeling that is universal. The last time I checked, heartbreak - unyielding, take-your-breath-right-out-of-your-soul heartbreak - isn't just exclusive to me.
True heartbreak - up at two a.m. with dry, aching eyes - no.
That's not just my story to tell. It's yours, too.
And perhaps, just perhaps, that's the whole thing. Isn't it? Sometimes, we're not ready to feel what's in our own heart, so we put up these big, blustering arguments about everyone else around us. Pointing the crowd - directing traffic expertly away from our own plane crashes. "Look at what's going on over there," we point. And we're effectively safe in our own hurt for another day.
Don't be like that, okay?
Life is hard enough. Let's go easy on each other.
Because we're all just people. You. Me. The next guy. People. Trying our best, every single day.
. About Moi .
I love, love, love flannel sheets and I am really passionate about lists on post it notes and most of the time I'm sad that no one else is as excited as I am about Diet Mountain Dew. I also adore run-on sentences.
He saw her before he saw
anything else in the room.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
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