This is my 200th blog entry, and I’m not sure how we got here. 200, that seems like a lot, but is it really? Before I go off on another tangent, which I am sure that this one will be full of, I want to take a second and address you personally. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being the reader. Thank you for giving me a chance to grow. I know that the 200 have been raw. I know I have a long way to go. But recently, someone said that I have ‘Imposter Syndrome’. As soon as I thought about it, I knew she was right. So I’d like for my 200th to be a celebration, a celebration of self, and a celebration of you. I don’t feel accomplished at all, but still, for a second today, I want to try. I want to appreciate you and I. So thank you Clint; thank you for doing something. Thank you for trying. Maybe you aren’t as shitty as you think.
I’ve learned a lot of things about myself during this journey. I ventured into the depths of my being and tried to pull something out. Often, things I didn’t know were living in there. I had no idea that I was so troubled . Maybe I just never had an outlet for it before, and now I do. Carl Jung called this, “The Shadow Self”. It's my dark side, that I hardly let myself acknowledge. Well somehow, through writing, I’ve become more and more familiar with it. Through this, I think that there is a lot of potential for growth.
WELL FUCK ME, of course the Ice Queen walks in at this exact moment. Life is a cruel bitch sometimes. It somehow seems fitting for the 200th that she would be here, literally right in front of me. She is the one that inspired all of this. I might have to stop and come back to this one, as my heart is racing, and thinking clearly is getting difficult. I keep my head down and pull my hat below my eyes, hoping she won’t see me; but there is no way she can’t. This is an all too familiar scene. We sit a few feet away without acknowledging each other. This really isn’t where I wanted this one to go….
I turn-down my headphones so I can hear what she is talking about. She’s talking about photography and camera’s with someone. I wish she would leave. I wish I would leave. I stopped writing and just started listening. What a shitty day. God Damnit. What a waste of the 200th. I think she just said that she is seeing someone that she met on tinder. What a fucking waste of writing this is turning out to be. Is this you God? Are playing another cruel trick on me? Why?
I try to turn my attention back to the people that I intended to write this for; you and me.
I want to thank you, but truthfully, it doesn’t matter as much as it did ten minutes ago. I want to thank myself, but that also seems irrelevant now. God damnit, I can’t even focus on the beautiful barista I have been crushing on for a few months. I can’t focus on my music. My back hurts, but still, I’m frozen here, once again, frozen with my heart racing. Fuck the 200th.
As she sits in front of me, I can’t help but feel like I don’t give a shit anymore; but obviously that isn’t true. My heart wouldn’t be racing like this if I didn’t. Fuck my physiology. My body betrays me, revealing to me what I already know. I haven’t checked her Instagram in about a week. That was the new record. God she sucks. Her friend shows up, the one friend that I met a few times. I feel surrounded. I have no chance now. Leaving makes the most sense, but fuck, I was here first…
I wished that I didn’t shave off the beard a few days ago. I always look better with a beard. On the bright-side, she also looks like shit. A pale fucking Ice Queen, dressed in black overalls and a white tank-top crop top thing (I don’t know women's fashion). Her elbows are still pointy but she seems paler than I remember. She’s being overly animated, and loud, and I can't tell if it is an act on my behalf or not.
Fuck this. This will not be my 200th. My 200th doesn’t get to be about her. I refuse.
Like a trapped animal, I play dead. Always the coward…
So much for the potential growth from the shadow. Look at me, being as petty as can be. And what for? No real reason at all. Life gave me lemons today, and I ran with it and called it art. This isn’t art, this is just a shitty diary. I had such high hopes for the 200th. I was trying to feel good about myself and look what it’s turned into.
I did say there would be tangents in this; you had been warned. I want to feel bitter about the timing of this encounter, but instead, I’m trying to figure out a way to be grateful for it. I don’t want to be the petty coward anymore.
This feels anticlimactic, but I think I’ll end this now. Cheers to you, the reader. (This has to be one of the worst appreciation posts of all time.) From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Some days are stranger than fiction, and today felt like one of those days. This life feels like a perfect blend of tragedy and comedy, and I have a feeling that life feels this way for a lot people. I try my best to honestly express what it feels like to be human when I write. That’s the method to all this. I don’t know if it’s working, but it’s what I am going to continue to do. I love you all and I’ll see for #201.