So, I’ve done it. Tiktok and Instagram are off my phone. …
…This is a good thing.
I watched Sophia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette today, instead of dwelling on my anxiety, and created a little painting afterwards.
Good luck, art thieves. My signature is in there four times. 😉
Art theif: *furiously scrubbing signatures, adjusting color balance*
Art theif: but it isn’t even that good 🙄
I have anxiety. I assume that's apparent? Anyway, it worsens before shows. At the show, I am a rockstar. After, I am usually nursing disappointment in human-kind for one reason or another.
The things I wish I had are always intangible, and come down to wishing away loneliness. I've learned it’s far better to be alone than in poor company, but communities are where we thrive. Or —self destruct. Choose wisely.
It does not feel good to know people are more isolated than ever. People get weird alone. When you haven't connected with another human being in so long— by choice or happenstance— it tests your fortitude. Weird emotions come out. Strange cognitions and old voices, buried deep, bubble again to the surface of your mind.
Hence, anxiety. Pills don't help me with this. I wish antidepressants could untangle the noodles of my brain, but that's something I have to do on my own.
Anyway, welcome? Welcome to this?
Listen. I have a relationship with social media. We all have a relationship with social media. Mine is just about to end.
Can a person survive without? Well, jeepers. Guess I’ll fuck around and find out.
I’ve been thinking about my next move for a while. Stepping out of routine allows you to see the holes in life that you’ve patched with cheap tape and painted over. You know, like how you have no idea where your money’s going. (Amazon.) Or your time. (Shopping on Amazon.) Or why you’ve been so tired (because your place is piled with garbage from Amazon). Look again after long enough, and there’s the light filtering through raised edges crisscrossing your walls.
In every abusive relationship I’ve been in, and boy, it’s been a few— the hallmark fallacy is the projection of the abuser: “You need me.”
Actually, they need you. Your time, your money, your attention, your joy, your effort, your fear. They are hollow inside. You are the light that shines within them. Don’t be a clown in their circus.
Social media is the human need for self expression, caged in a moneymaking machine. It is a stage imprisoned. You will perform for jackwagons and bots and weasels and people so dead inside they can’t even speak to another human without first demanding monetary compensation for their harvested soul.
They corral with the fear of abandonment. “It’s the only way to talk to so-and-so.”
Is it really? Does so-and-so have your number? Email address? P.O. Box? Do you even trust so-and-so with that? Maybe people who can’t take the effort to listen when you speak aren’t your “friends.” Maybe they’ll swirl the bowl as soon as you flush.
I’ve lost a good amount of baggage in my life, and each step gets lighter as I move towards my true purpose: living this fucking life with all I’ve got.
Will people read my blog? Probably, yeah.
Will people I DON’T want around read my blog? Definitely yeah. But in my house, we sweep out the trash. We don’t blame the house for getting dirty, then ban it from Tiktok for two weeks.
I succeed in the times I am most vulnerable. When I break free of toxic relationships, systems and ideas and realize I’m worth more.
all right. So. The exeunt of social media. How is this gunna go?
well, let’s fuck around and find out!!