Friday, 4 April 2014

The Five Stages Of Grief After You've Been Hated Upon By Haters.

Ever been bitched about on the internet? Bullied at school? Harassed at work? Bad-mouthed by anonymous douchebags via every possible social media channel? This is for you.

Horror. How could they! What? No. No way is my name right there next to all of those mean things. No WAY. I can't believe it. Surely they can see I'm a nice person? This is ... this is just wrong. This can't be happening to me I am NICE. What?!!

I pour my heart out, give it my all, and THIS is the thanks I get? You have NO idea how it feels like to be me. Can't even see me. You're wrong. Fuck this shit. Fuck you.
"Imma be what I set out to be, without a doubt undoubtedly,
And all those who look down on me I'm tearing down your balcony." - Eminem

Look. Ok. I never said I was perfect. I can change. Can I? Do I need to? Who do you want me to be? Just tell me and I'll be it. I know you can like me! Just give me another chance. I'll strip away all that you don't like and be different. I can be better. Show me who you want me to be and I'll be it! I am so sorry.

This is useless. I am useless. I am, whatever you say I am. It's true ... everything you say is true. I'm a bad person. Shouldn't be trying to do or say or achieve anything, in case I make you feel angry, or outraged, or inferior, or jealous. I can give up, if that's what you want?

There's nothing I can do or say or somehow act any differently to convince you of who I really am. I guess you've really made up your mind? Huh. Well, I might just continue on with what I was doing anyway. Because this *is* who I am. Not everybody is going to like me or agree with me. That's cool. I get it. I sure as hell don't like or agree with a lot of people either. I guess that's called, being part of the human race? Anyway, if anybody needs me I'll just be doing my stuff over here. You know - creative, ridiculous, or successful shit. I like doing that. Fills me up in a way that you'll never, ever know.

"I write from my soul. This is the reason that critics don't hurt me, because it is me. If it was not me, if I was pretending to be someone else, then this could unbalance my world. But I know who I am." - Paulo Coelho

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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