I never know how to start these things. I tend to just brain vomit until there’s nothing left. And since I don’t have the luxury of peace within my own mind, I’m writing about it.
Today, I’m chapped. Chuffed. Steaming. Pissed. Irritated. I have a pounding headache and my stomach is doing the Wagon Wheel Watusi. Allowing myself to feel my feelings is great and all, but today, I just want to… not.
I am simultaneously unsurprised and deeply disappointed in the unmitigated audacity of strangers. Existing online in any capacity opens the floodgates for unsolicited opinions, takes, statements, insults, quips, and diatribes. When I use my small platform to post content of my choosing, it tends to resonate with the right people and instigate the wrong ones. It’s impossible for certain people to keep scrolling. Their eye starts to twitch. Their palms start to itch. They have to chime in — not gently or melodically, but clumsily and discordantly, muddying the water and murdering the vibe.
I try not to check my social media in bed most mornings because it usually sours my mood before my feet hit the floor. Leave it to SteveBirthYear, KennyFavoriteSportsTeam and RobertBunchOfNumbers to “put me in my place” with a festering misogynistic comment on a post that has fuck-all to do with them. Here I was, blissfully unaware of their existence until they came clobbering through the door. They’re chomping at the bit to exact a semblance of control over anyone’s life but their own.
*cracks knuckles* I am begging people (read men) to de-center yourselves from others’ (read women’s) lives. You’re not even the main character in your own, so why would you be on the cast list in mine? I’m just trying to exist and survive. My social media presence is just that — mine. You don’t have to like me or agree with me. But before you waste my time with a diarrhea-scented take, ask yourself why you feel such an aching need to be condescending to a complete stranger, and then approach them with hostility when they match your energy. Make it make sense, ConnorLastNameFavoriteNumber. Because I fucking can’t.
“But it’s a public platform!” So you’re telling me you approach strangers in public and scream incoherently? I don’t know if you’ve ever been told this, but people’s existence isn’t a personal invite. I don’t owe anyone kindness, least of all DavidGraduationYear who thinks owning a microphone makes him a podcaster. Your opinions don’t belong here. The garbage receptacle is *points to other side of globe* that way.
“Why can’t you just block and move on?” Great question. Some of these people have never been told to shut the fuck up in their entire lives, and it shows. I’m simply offering a service by being their first. Who am I to deny them the experience of being cut off at the knees?
I don’t know, y’all. I feel like I can’t talk about this anywhere without these people feeling like they’ve been personally summoned. I promise you, ChadleyNamePun, the world will keep spinning without your online hatred. In fact, it’ll spin even smoother. I get it — I was in middle school once, where clowning people’s appearances was the norm. But as a thirty-something adult, I can’t fathom the need to insult a stranger’s appearance because they said something I disagree with. Y’all really think your opinions are special? My own opinions aren’t even special! But they are mine, and I reserve the right to decide how to respond to asshats who barge into my life without warning.
Like they say where I’m from — don’t start none, won’t be none.
