F*CK WRITING

Writing is hard. I put so much pressure on myself as if I’m figuring out my existence on this planet through the keyboard of my MacBook Air. I sit here with this desperate need to prove myself. To any man who broke my heart or even swiped left, to anyone who didn’t believe in me, to any acting teacher who told me that I wasn’t good as is and that I should change my appearance or voice in order to make it in this industry, to any asshole kid from my childhood who called me fat and made me cry, to any restaurant or bar manager who fired me and forced me to feel dumb, to any dick customers who were rude, to any guy who treated me nothing more than a sexual object for themselves, to any selfish man who I slept with who wasn’t at all curious about my clit, to anyone who lied or deceived me or even cut me in line, to anyone who unfollowed me on Instagram or Twitter, to anyone who honked at me on the road, to anyone who has not invited me to their 4th of July Day parties and then obnoxiously post about it, and then to my father for not loving me the way I should have been loved and to whomever killed my mother and then dumped her lifeless body at a grocery store parking lot with her breasts hanging out as if she were merely just a piece of trash…

So yeeeeeeeahhhh…

Sometimes writing is hard for me. 

But I like it. I love it. I really do. I have a strong desire to write. Like it’s a calling. I’m deeply grateful that I have a precise vision for my life, AND I’m actually following through with it. Not a lot of people can say that. I’m proud of myself. There’s just this monstrous longing attached to it. 

I want to be seen. (Look at these pictures. I’m half-naked, wearing fake eye lashes, AND holding a pineapple. Do you see me?) I want to be heard. (Listen to my pain and the strange horror stories of my life, and then let’s talk about queefing and have a laugh. I have a voice. Please hear me. But you do not need to literally hear me queef. Don’t worry).

But rooted underneath all this chatter, I just want to matter. To someone. Anyone. Perhaps to you.