Bad neighbors

Standard

Don't worry about me and my broken heart

On WordPress, all bloggers are equal, but some are more equal than others. WP shows its monkey love to the ones that are more equal like susanwritesprecise and kiwsparks. They get emails and videos (with fireworks!) about the stats on their blogs.

 

For those who are mere typists like me, nothing. That’s okay, really; I’m used to it. Don’t worry about me and my broken heart. I’ll just sit here and share my bananas with my insecurities. (Did you hear that monkeys? I have bananas.)

 

I don’t remember when my insecurities moved into my childhood neighborhood; it seems like they always lived next door. They beat me up a lot when I was younger, so I learned to avoid walking in front of their house on the way to school. When you’re bullied, you learn to take shortcuts and leave your dreams at home. You avoid your friends because you hate getting beat up in front of them or having your dreams fished out of your pockets and ridiculed. Friends can cheer you on, but they can’t fight for you: you have to fight for yourself.

 

Although I have moved numerous times in my life, my insecurities always find me and manage to buy the house next door. I’ve learned to ignore them most of the time and pretend I don’t hear what they say. People in my life have loved and supported me, so  I’ve lived a good life.But I have kept most of my dreams hidden away. You probably know that one of those dreams is about writing.

 

Walking around with your heart or dream on your sleeve is risky business. Since I started blogging, my insecurities have noticed. Last month, they  joined the YMCA and have taken up weightlifting. A couple of them even got skull and crossbones tattoos. You would not want to meet them in a dark alley.

 

They read my blog, and when I see them on the street, they make snide comments about the things I write. I confess that I have a couple of rogue fingers that seem to have no connection to my brain. I type things on my blog or in the comment boxes of unsuspecting bloggers and then press enter, publish, or reply, sometimes without really proofreading. On my own blog, I can edit, but once I post a comment on someone else’s blog, it’s like toothpaste – once you squeeze it out, you can’t get it back in the tube.

 

I have at least two and half things to say about this. One, if I got toothpaste on your blog, I’m sorry. Two, I plan to continue typing until it turns into writing. And last, I am only half kidding about my insecurities.

 

I don’t know who your neighbors are, but I imagine there’s someone on your block that makes your life difficult. Keep writing, or typing, or taking photos; keep sharing your dreams. Just a couple of houses down, some of your neighbors are sitting on the front porch waiting to welcome you in.

 

Happy New Year!