A Bad Day
It’s just a funk. It’s not the good kind of funk. It’s weird how ‘funk’ is one of my favorite words. Mostly when I use it, it’s to describe the music that I love so much or the style I wish to express. It is my medium of choice. This time it means that I’m going through my funk of loneliness, depression, and insecurity.
I am not the naïve country girl that some people (even a couple of my closest friends) think that I am. But I am a naïve county girl. I am just now learning t things that my peers learned in junior high. And I’m making mistakes now at an age that makes people cringe and look at me like some sort of mutating bacteria. They compare me to one of those birds that never learned a mating call, so I must remain forever alone. I guess that’s the way it goes.
I am not a lesbian. I pride myself on making people wonder, because mostly I don’t give a shit. But today I do. Today I blame all my shortcomings to the fact that my sexual orientation is not labeled clearly across my chest for the entire universe to see. If I made a huge sign that said “I am heterosexual” would it make me more or less appealing?
Who’s right is it anyway to make me feel like shit? Not yours! I can be inferior without my own consent, goddammit. I didn’t consent to feeling like a complete bitch.
This blog reminds me of every uncomfortable, weepy, pathetic moment I’ve ever had in my life. Someday it’ll stop, right?
I am not the naïve country girl that some people (even a couple of my closest friends) think that I am. But I am a naïve county girl. I am just now learning t things that my peers learned in junior high. And I’m making mistakes now at an age that makes people cringe and look at me like some sort of mutating bacteria. They compare me to one of those birds that never learned a mating call, so I must remain forever alone. I guess that’s the way it goes.
I am not a lesbian. I pride myself on making people wonder, because mostly I don’t give a shit. But today I do. Today I blame all my shortcomings to the fact that my sexual orientation is not labeled clearly across my chest for the entire universe to see. If I made a huge sign that said “I am heterosexual” would it make me more or less appealing?
Who’s right is it anyway to make me feel like shit? Not yours! I can be inferior without my own consent, goddammit. I didn’t consent to feeling like a complete bitch.
This blog reminds me of every uncomfortable, weepy, pathetic moment I’ve ever had in my life. Someday it’ll stop, right?