After months where I thought I’d gotten ahold of myself, I managed to be in the same bar with the ex and having a decent conversation. We talked about work, writing, slam poetry, and then moved on to the Gap sponsorship deal. And that’s where the conversation unravelled. He asked for stats to justify the move, and then, as if in a web 2.0 bolt of lightening, realized that all these years, someone’s been reading what I wrote. And promptly got pissy.
I explained that I write anonymously, that almost no one who reads me knows who I am, that I don’t write with names, that I write for me and that all of you are just gravy on the boat of putting how I feel written the way I feel it out in the universe. And all of a sudden, it occurred to him that someone reads this. That my good and bad behavior and his is out there on the internet for people to read. And I was the bad guy all of a sudden.
And here, after all these months, I am, feeling like crap, like everything that has happened is my fault somehow, because of a website he thought was a joke for years. Being the upstanding citizen that I am, and a queen of passive aggression, I promptly threw every other girl along the way in his face.
And now, I’m here. At home alone in the dark, with only the screen in front of me. And I have to make this stand. My words are my words. I put them out there, largely to readers I’ve never met. But, I am honest. I put the ugly and the real out there, even when I don’t come out smelling like roses. And to him, this is probably just one more reason that every girl in the world looks more attractive to him than me. But I claim this ground. This is my one square inch of space in the world, and if I look bad in the telling of it, or he does, it is what it is.
And I refuse to apologize. It is my life. And I can only tell it from my perspective. But in the darkest moments, this is sometimes all I have- my own spare space to put it out there- ugly and all. I am me. And I’ll be damned if the anxiety of someone who showed so little interest until now will keep me silent. I am me. I write. I vent. And I have been wronged. Hear me roar.