06 May 2017
Publishing That Blogpost Exposing the Deeply Embarrassing Thing That Happened to Me Deeply Exposed and Embarrassed Me
This is the post I have been afraid to write. Terrified, actually.
Because it will reveal me to myself and force me to face up to my private desires and in the end I may be exposed as a total moron and still not have any Followers on Twitter – well you can imagine how terrifying that must be. I know I can, and imagination was never my strong suit.
I feel cheated, robbed of my privacy and stripped bare of my most innermost thoughts. Embarrassed, insulted, kicked around, pushed out the door and left for unsuccessful by the side of the road to my horizons.
And it's all because I bared my soul for the world to mock in that (dumb stupid) blogpost.
When I wrote my tell-all self-expose of the complete story of the shocking revelation that I wet the bed until I was twenty-seven, and detailed the many therapy sessions and corrective surgeries I had gone through in what can only be described (by law) as a pitiful ordeal, I thought I was just telling an interesting story, it was a simple exercise in 'writing what you know' that I imagined would help me attract a bevy of new "Adherents" on Twitter or Twongle or Twozzle or whatever the new one's called.
I never imagined it would ruin my life forever. That people would laugh at me, make all manner of hurtful wisecracks at my expense, create hysterical memes with pictures of cats or famous movie characters captioned with embarrassing words that I myself wrote under an intense emotional spell, in a fragile, vulnerable state of mind, when I felt that I just had to get that out of me or I would explode and was utterly unable to understand or even consider the consequences of such a revelation, in today's internet era where your words once published can come back to haunt you and take your dignity and obliterate your future, forever.
Now I'm unemployable. I can't keep a job or a boy/girlfriend. My pet hamster Mr. Gerbils ran away when he discovered my secret, he left a note saying all the other hamsters were making fun of him and he was confused about his gerbility and why did I post that on Facebook am I a complete moron and he simply couldn't face the world as my hamster any more.
Courage exacts a price, and if having the courage to stand up and make an ass of myself in public in order to get attention (which these days of course can be monetized) is the cost of having the courage to take a stand, to show yourself to the world, then so be it. I am not trying to run away from the consequences of my choices. I did get 71 new Followers on Instagraham and although there's no way to tell how sincere any of them are, in that sense it was almost worth it. But alas, the suffering of being stigmatized for my own blogpost. Of being made a parasol, or a paragon, whichever is correct there, on account of my own deeply personal account of my past stigmatization and sufferings. To be bitten by the very thing – social networks – that had given my life some semblance of meaning for the past three and two-thirds years! How cruel is fate, how savage the vicissitudes of Instagraham and how bitter the poisoned fruits of cruel demon Twitter!
O wretched internet, I am SO like, Eli Eli lama sabbachtani to the max! Why hast thou forsaken me and whatnot?