This is why I sometimes write stupid shit

I woke up around 4.00 am this morning with a sense of foreboding. It was back. That voice in my head, that pit in my stomach, the devil on left shoulder telling me they weren’t going anywhere unless I wrote a blog post.

“All right”, I groaned in resignation. “What do you want me to write coz I like, have nothing better to do than follow the orders of imaginary monsters?”

“That’s the spirit, child! You need to write about why you write stupid shit”.

I could understand my demons. A lady I admire once posted on Twitter that whenever she looks back at her past writings, she cringes in shame. It was a hallelujah moment for me, to know that I am not alone.

But I do not delete those posts (okay, some of them). But for the most part, I know that someone somewhere is benefiting from my oversharing, my bashing, my self-righteousness and all the dumb crap that I sometimes put out there.

Know how I know?  Thank you, I’m glad you asked. I appreciate the honesty of individuals on the Internet. People who write constantly about depression may never be understood by the healthy individual but some of us do who want to take like, a two week hibernation in a morgue before returning to this abyss called life. I appreciate all the unusual, over the top, ‘was that really necessary to write?’ posts because they are oh-so-honest. Especially the ones on Twitter by a growing number of women who embroil us with their sexual exploits. Those of us with cobwebs for vaginas really appreciate you.

One day, all ye too will look back and go, “Gaaaah! Did I really put all of that out there?”

Fear not. I believe you may suffer from the same illness I do. Or maybe you have a different one, I don’t know. But for me, an idea enters my head from outer space and if I don’t let it out I will go insane. I will regret every word I’m typing but it’s the only way to let it go.

female+emoji+dont+know.jpg

So that’s why I sometimes write stupid shit. 

 

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