meta on oversharing, #2

gwynethtytLeave a comment

For the first time in a while, I had second thoughts about the oversharing I perform online.

I have always considered the potential consequences of doing so. I have also decided that they are insignificant in the grander scheme of things (what is a thought worth if never acted upon?).

What makes this second-guessing border on the absurd is that my main subject is my feelings. If people think they can weaponise my experiences against me, they are a fool at best and deranged at worst. I am my biggest critic; there’s nothing new they could possibly bring to the table. Attempting to police self-expression only highlights the complainant’s insecurities and prejudices. That’s why shit-stirrers without substance are usually anonymous — if they had conviction in their opinions, they wouldn’t be in hiding like the cowards they are.

But let’s move on to the other and more exciting kind of disclosure: the tell-alls, where I write about specific others. By the way: those get the most views, so what does that tell you about human nature?

My observations of people tell me that being deconstructed and revealed to others feels like punishment to many. There’s a curious feeling that rises in one’s stomach when they realise they’re the subject of someone else’s reports. It’s never fun to be written about negatively, and I take accountability for my words, so I do my best to avoid character attacks. I interpret what I observe and let my readers come to their own conclusions; that’s what keeps it fun. (Are you a disappointment? I don’t determine that; my audience does.)

I did backtrack once when I wrote a post about somebody whom I really cared for, even though I said nothing bad about them. I realised I didn’t want to subject them to scrutiny in the same way that I do to myself. So, if you’re a loved one who has wondered why I haven’t written about you, please know that I haven’t precisely because I care about you.

I will only ever explicitly write about people (typically men; I wonder why) that I do not care to keep in my life. I do think of it as a little punishment, maybe (FAFO for short). Even then, I keep their identity semi-anonymous out of basic decency: I have principles, you know. To reveal and be revealed is cathartic for me, though. Thus we have this blog — the product of all of these preferences. So, ironically, I have to credit the least deserving people for inspiring my work.

(To my future lover: if you’re reading this and you’re intimidated, don’t be. Again, inverting FAFO, you won’t be punished if you don’t mess around in the first place.)

It’s all fun and games in the end. If you don’t care, fine — you won’t be missed, and now I’ve made another pretty piece of art. If you care — enjoy the feeling while it lasts! If you love it, even better — it’d excite me further. If you want to retaliate, you’re welcome to do so — I told you, I love the thrill. One question that sets us apart, though: can you handle the consequences?

But okay, that’s enough meta for today. (I should really get a new hobby.)

a confessional, delayed

gwynethtytLeave a comment

you’ll never see this, but in the off chance you do:

you’re not like the others at all — you were special. i don’t think love can be quantified, but i loved you so much that i put you before me for as long as i could.

and didn’t you do the same for me?

you’re the only one who deserves better than everything i could’ve given you.

more than anything, i hope that you find happiness. when we eventually meet again, i know you’ll be happier than you’ve ever been with me.

somnolence

gwynethtytLeave a comment

i could never fall asleep easily around them.

one time i stared wide-eyed at the ceiling through midnight until his alarm rang. when i studied him, basking in the warmth of the golden hour, he seemed to be having a pleasant dream: maybe life was sweeter for him there. back in reality, all that was left for me to do was envy him.

i think that one sleeps soundly when there’s nothing to worry about.

another time we stayed up until it was warm; i was talking at him throughout, at a pace so frenetic it was as if i already knew that we would never see each other again. i couldn’t sleep, even with the additional melatonin in my blood. i did have a lot i wanted to share, but now i wonder if it was also because i didn’t feel comfortable enough to let the silence settle in between us. it adds up, because i can no longer remember what we said, only what was left unsaid.

as someone who’s had insomnia all her life, falling asleep easily is a blessing. a perfect descent is like wading into a warm ocean with the scent of home around you. deceptively light at first, a heaviness weighs you down until you realise you’re sinking to the point of no return: it conquers you whether you embrace or resist it. but it’s easier to let go with someone — if you trust that they’ll eventually pull you back to the surface to breathe again.

maybe they knew, maybe they didn’t — either way, i don’t think they cared.

i’ve joined them now. these days, i burrow into my blanket and hug my bolster tight. for sure, doing so can’t replicate the affections of a drowsy lover. but it is nice in its own way: nestled away in my cocoon, sometimes — just sometimes — i hear the sound of the waves and nothing else.

eden

gwynethtytLeave a comment

Don’t waste your time chasing butterflies. Mend your garden, and the butterflies will come.

Mario Quintana, Butterflies (translated from the original, “Borboletas”)

I feel I’ve grown a lot emotionally over the past six months. There might still be things I’m not ready to admit to myself — such as my irrational desire for a perfect partner who will ostensibly complete me — but I am also gradually realising that perhaps, just perhaps — I can be whole on my own after all.

I have embarked on so many projects this year that the younger me could hardly have imagined. Pilates princess, babygirl energy? Clarifying my boundaries, and letting go of people and things not contributing to my growth? Living as my authentic self, unwilling to be stifled by others’ projections?

Isn’t this what I wanted all along? All of this seems unreal.

I’ll keep doing these and more because I want to — not because anyone else has told me to, or because someone or society said it’s good for me. It’s good for me because I decided it is, and so it shall be.

I am tending to my garden; I will keep tending to it, rain or shine. The butterflies will come, not because I called out to them, but only because they find it a beautiful place to be.

They may be fickle; they may not stay.

And that’s okay; in the meantime — as we were meant to — we can play.