I'm angry tonight for a variety of reasons that really don't need to be posted for the world to see. Nothing to do with my immediate family or mate, just an urge to scream and break bottles against a concrete wall.
There are a few things that come to mind. Of course, there always are. Passive-aggressive people. Those who don't come right out and say what they want or mean but must beat about the bush. Creditors. The patriarchy. Ex-friends who still exist on the perimeters of one's world, spreading their own skewed brand of truth. Pompous windbags. The poorly socialized. Stalkers. People who can't let go.
I'm broke. I've gotten a few knitting commissions that are giving me gas money and cash for sundries. And I am making this post quickly, so I can go back to them.
I'm tired of struggling.
And I wonder, who the fuck are you people, who stop by this blog once or twice a day? What do you get from this, you internet voyeurs, who leave no comments, no trace of your passing other than what my site counter tells me?
Why do I bother doing this? Am I writing for me or you?
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2 comments:
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kelly (aka Picabomama). I write a blog and I have been reading you for a couple of weeks now. I find your voice interesting and I can't really explain myself much further than that. You read me, I read you and I'll promise to comment more. 'Kay?
Hi, Kelly. Nice to meet you!
Don't let the public tantrum turn you off. I'm having one of those weeks.
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