I was fucking around on the back end of this web site, getting ready to publish a piece I wrote on the prosperity gospel of Donald Trump, but I’m holding off on that for a minute, because I need to come to my own personal Jesus on some other shit.
I took down the last post I wrote. In the past, I’ve never unposted anything, because it’s like, if I wrote it and felt it and it wasn’t that good or I misfired on the message I was trying to convey or pissed someone off, that’s ok, because failure is part of the process of doing literally anything, and I try to embrace that as a normal and healthy part of my life. I’ve tried to shake off the stigma of shame attached to failure.
But the last post I wrote was more hurtful than I initially considered it would be, and while I stand behind what I wrote for my own process of coping, I think that the decision to publish it was the wrong decision.
You know, generally speaking, I accept what people think of the things I write here because only offering up a finite slice of who you are as a whole person is part and parcel to writing on the internet. Nobody will ever know me from the words on this web site, and that is intentional, because I’m often “playing a character.” And if people don’t like something I write and translate that into not liking me, that’s ok with me. There are plenty of public personas I don’t like based on what they say, why would I be any different? And that particular effect of my previous post is something I embrace. It made me look like a mean person because I can be a mean person. It made me look angry and resentful and jealous and cowardly and spiteful and really fucking ugly, and you know what, I’m very often all of those things too. But what I have trouble with personally in that last piece is how violating it was. I don’t see myself as being a person who violates others with great intention, but that’s exactly what I did.
My regret is in the airing of other peoples’ personal stuff in a public forum, because that story was not my story to share, and it also wasn’t a whole, complete story. It was a tiny piece of a story, out of context, from one perspective, and amplified by hurt and anger. I didn’t get much of a response to the piece after I published it, but I am aware that other people got lots of questions and comments about it, and that that caused trouble in their lives. That fucking SUCKS. And I’m really sorry about that, because it’s my fault that it happened. I saw your social media posts calling me an asshole and whatnot, and I totally get it. The one thing that crossed my mind about that was a curiosity about why nobody asked me any questions, since I was the one responsible for the writing. I think that there is a self-fulfilling behavior at play in which this ugly piece of writing confirmed to a lot of people that I’m an ugly person, and reaching out to me directly might have given me the opportunity to shatter that notion. I understand that when feelings run hot it’s important to have a clearly defined enemy.
And why do I understand that? Because that’s what I did! Look, I felt that shit, and I am fine with that, but again, what I wrote is not an accurate depiction of who the other person is. I created a character and passed that character off as a full reality. That’s not ok. Creating a narrative from only one small slice of another person’s life, well, that was a really horrible thing to do, and I see it, I regret it, and I’m sorry for it. I don’t really know how to correct it, which is the biggest part of the real damage I did here.
It probably goes without saying, but the reason I am so hurt and so fucked up and acting like a fucking asshole is because the relationship that I lost was really important and special to me, and I feel out of control, I feel like I’ve lost a touchstone and a person I thought supported me, and I’m so isolated and lonely because of a lot of the fallout that happened. I had to completely reframe something I thought I knew after truth came into play and I came face to face with the reality of how people I loved actually see me, and I’ve had to face that I was in complete denial about a river of truth flowing underneath events that confused me at the time that feels so humiliating now, in retrospect. And I fucking HATE feeling humiliated. I hate it. But it’s really the only emotion I’m in touch with right now, and it’s not really anybody else’s fault but my own. I didn’t see that, and I wanted to bite back, I suppose. What a fucking shitty thing to do. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about who I am and what my life is like, and in a certain way, that piece was a real success. I opened up a dirty truth about my core to the public eye, and perhaps that was what I needed to do to justify feeling so fucking horrible all the time. Self-fulfilling prophecy is what they call that, I believe, in Freudian psychology.
I am fucking scared of my future, and exhausted by everything, because my life is fucking garbage. I wake up for work and I go there and I come home and I eat and sleep and I repeat it and I just can’t shake that internal voice asking me over and over again, WHAT THE FUCK IS THE POINT OF ALL OF THIS? And I don’t see a future in which I can be of much value to anyone else. Will that feeling pass? Maybe. Maybe not. But it doesn’t seem outlandish to say that this is what I deserve, and that when religious people talk about the idea of hell, that this kind of untethered suspension in a space of isolation and a constant loop of negative feelings is what they might be conceptualizing.
But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was intentionally hurtful and violating, and that is not in alignment with how I think that I should be. I hurt people I care about in order to exhume dark emotions, to prick and drain a nasty boil on the taint of my own humanity that I should have done in private, in therapy, in a diary, or to someone I trust. I only thought about myself, and I didn’t think about anyone else. I violated my own sense of empathy to satisfy a burning moment of anger. I used my intelligence, artistic ability and platform as a weapon, and there is truly nothing more insidious and evil than that. I’m no better than any elected official who does the same thing, and I couldn’t post my political piece on Trump without first vocalizing that. And, in a way, my ability to be wretched with such ease gives me some very Inside Baseball insight into how our political demons function, so maybe there’s a little silver lining here that I didn’t expect.
I usually try to wrap things up with some kind of larger point, but I really don’t have one right now other than taking public ownership of being a predator, because that’s what I’ve always wished for from those who have violated me. I’m humbled by this look at myself in the mirror, and I really hope I don’t do it again, and I’ll put the work in to do my best to achieve that goal. In the meantime, we’ll just keep the fucking hamster wheel spinning over here at HTP Worldwide Headquarters, because what the fuck else are we supposed to do.