It’s Time to Stop Feeling Sorry for Myself and Shut the Fuck Up So You Can Speak

Okay, I apologize to all my followers on Medium. I hate calling you “followers” because it sounds like a cult-like status that erupted from my need to be needy.

Truth is, I have been quite needy lately. I use Medium as my public diary, which is bizarre because diaries are supposed to be private, but I don’t enjoy hiding my joy and pain. I like sharing the increments of despair that overwhelm just as much as you love documenting your long weekend jaunts in places that I can only hope I will visit before I am too old to indulge.

2016 was supposed to be the year of my victory. I was supposed to finally rise above the bullshit and declare my presence through the emancipation of my words and the acceptance of anyone who cared to care about what I have to say.

It worked to some degree but the truth is that I have been disgustingly self-involved ever since I decided that I didn’t want to continue to earn a paycheck based on how well I can answer incoming calls or book flights at the last minute.

I wanted to be a writer who writes for pleasure and realizes a level of devotion and earnings from the commitment to such a practice.

I gave up a lot to make it happen. Sometimes, I desperately transport myself to my surroundings at a time when space was an occupation I chose based on the choices I had made.

I wanted to live in New York and I did. I had rules and obligation and I met them astutely. I woke up every morning at 5 am and dressed for the gym. After sweating away my stress at Equinox — it was off to my job and then home again.

I took for granted what I had accumulated. I was a selfish and ungrateful bitch who complained about the life she wanted so badly and that temperament has almost cost me everything.

I alienated friends who are so long gone that I won’t even bother to retrieve them. We play roles for our lives and others, and when the director yells “Cut” it’s time to move on to the next project.

All I could see was what I wanted and I what I thought would fulfill me to the point of re-aligning my soul with its rightful owner. I sacrificed my family for the sake of my endless pursuits.

I became numb to the truths around me and centered on the goal of being this person that can’t exist without a time machine.

It’s time to stop feeling sorry for myself and shut the fuck up.

The last piece I wrote was inspired by the dregs of sorrow that overwhelms as it should but there comes a point when you have to look in the mirror and let your eyes do the talking.

What I see is a restless heart that is beating without the drums of reality. So, you didn’t make it — not everybody does. You can exist without being the screenwriter you envisioned or the celebrated novelist that you imagined. You can still make life worth it by releasing your tense disposition and filling that bubble with the love you have for anybody but yourself.

Or you can remain silent and let others speak on their behalf as they let you know how they have to sleep while staying awake in order to prepare for bombs that drop from the sky like pellets that are supposed to dissolve but retain form until they explode. Or perhaps you can hear how difficult it is to complete the simplest of tasks because the government is too weak to provide the hope you need to evolve into whatever your heart desires.

I want to help those of you who speak with a voice that is strong but yet too weak to reach the pillars of the universe. I want to become the person who isn’t focused with what she should have become but rather immersed in what she will become when she becomes a human being on a mission that surpasses her tattered dreams.

This evolution was always in the running but it took the election of a bully to make me realize that the time has come to apply my skills in a way that will destroy the virus and fund the cure.

I will always feel sorry for myself, but this time the pain and disappointment will educate, empower and enlighten the landscape of my mind and the ones who have been designated to enrich the path to our survival.

I want to live and so do you — So, speak.

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