Thoughts, sponsored by Not Your Father’s Root Beer

I had a good night tonight after a series of not-good nights (and days) and there’s some stuff on my mind I need to get out. I’ve gained some clarity and made peace with some things lately, and I think that’s a sign of how much better I’m getting. 

He hurt me because he’s broken. I’m broken too. So are you. Some people just manage their brokenness in a way that doesn’t further break other people. And it’s not all-or-nothing. Sometimes you contribute to breaking someone, sometimes you don’t. Being broken doesn’t make it okay, it just makes you a person. Sometimes it also makes you a giant fucking asshole.

Someone who rolls their eyes at your mental health, or ignores it, or acts like you talking about it is something to be endured with gritted teeth and barely-suppressed eye rolling is not your friend. In fact, they are a giant fucking asshole. 

People who try to control your behavior as a way to ease their own unaddressed neuroses are not your friends. They are broken, yes, but they are also giant fucking assholes.

The world is full of giant fucking assholes, and you don’t need to tolerate their nonsense. There are a lot of other people who are lovely and understanding and kind. They’re flawed and broken too, of course, like we all are, but they try really hard to not be hurtful or selfish, and those people shine in the darkness. Find some of those lovely shining people and make them part of your clan. I’ve found quite a few of those, and my life is better for it. And everyone else can die in a fire.

It sounds harsh. I know. But honestly, I’m tired. I’ve been tired for a long time. Nobody is perfect and I would never expect anyone to be. I’ve hurt people and would never try to claim that I haven’t. But people who hurt and break other people as a matter of routine are a different story, and I’m not going to make excuses for people like that anymore. I’ve made so many excuses for people who treat me badly because I don’t want to believe that sometimes a person is just a giant fucking asshole. I can always see that a person has the potential to not be that way, so I excuse inexcusable things and sweep my hurt under the rug and perform mental and emotional acrobatics so it makes sense to me in some twisted way. I cling to mistakes for the sole reason that I’ve spent a lot of time making them. And I don’t want to do that anymore. I feel good, feel honestly and truly good, for the first time in years. I feel big joy again, and it’s been so long. I don’t cry all the time, and I don’t feel this gaping black hole of raw, intolerable pain in my chest all the time anymore. It feels so good to be able to be happy again, and after so much time spent in misery, I’ve realized that I don’t have time for people who routinely contribute to making me feel sad or angry or bad about myself. Fuck those people.

Get away from my joy. There’s no room here for you.

2 thoughts on “Thoughts, sponsored by Not Your Father’s Root Beer

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