It’s been a while since I’ve written anything here. In fact, I get notifications all the time reminding me just how many days, hours, and minutes it’s been since I’ve posted, as if I’m not more than aware. After much deliberating, I’ve decided to post again. I can’t promise it will be very often. It might be extremely rare, but when I was posting regularly, I felt like I could breathe a little deeper. There’s something about getting the words off of your chest and out into the open air. As a writer, they tend to build up, stacked high in your mind until you find a pen and paper, or a blank computer screen willing and capable of accepting who you are.
I think artists are simply like that, and writers are of the artist breed. If you haven’t felt that tugging sensation to create something, perhaps you haven’t found your medium yet. Pencils have always fit easily into my hand, and I enjoy sketching silly little things, but my true medium is, and always has been, words. It’s why I still narrate my life when I’m having a bad day. Okay, it’s because I’m a total dork, but it makes me laugh, and then I’m cured.
The thing is, I’m back because I had a voice here, until someone silenced it. I left because I felt bullied. What a role model, right? I was bullied into leaving, and I didn’t feel emotionally capable of dealing with it, so I left. On the outside, as a reader, I’m sure that seems strange, or weak, or childish, or whatever, but I’m here to be honest with you. I’d delete the comments, but not without screen-saving them on my phone first, just in case I needed proof that this was happening. And I still have them, so, if my bully is out there, hiding behind the void, I have no problem posting them on here for the world to see.
The thing about internet bullies is that it’s so much simpler to be cruel now. The person or persons can hide behind technology. They can say things they ordinarily would never say in person. They can delete and rephrase. They can find different avenues of getting in even after you’ve blocked them. And they will. And that’s what is such a shame. That’s where the internet becomes a sorry excuse for social interactions, when a small, timid person can become a terribly cruel, social media giant. Where words aren’t spoken, they’re typed. Where reactions aren’t seen, but read. Where feelings aren’t feelings, and cruel doesn’t seem cruel. It’s so much easier to be mean when you don’t think you’re hurting someone. It’s so much easier to hurt someone when you know you won’t get caught.
I left because I didn’t want to deal with that anymore. I didn’t want to have to delete comment after comment. I didn’t want this person to have access to my very personal thoughts. I didn’t want to risk having my words stolen out from under me, again. Perhaps this could be interpreted by the public as cowardice, but if you knew what this blog was to me, you’d see it as strength. I gave up something I loved to be free. It
isn’t the first time I’ve had to do something like that, and this isn’t the first time it’s involved this very person. I’m well-versed in sacrificing personal pleasures for basic human rights. What I’ve realized, though, is that if I don’t take this back, they win. I’m twenty-six, almost twenty-seven-years-old now. I’m on the wrong side of twenty, folks, officially. And in addition to aging, that means that I don’t have to surrender anything to anyone. This is my time and my life, and no one is going to take that from me again.