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penelopie wilson

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translations

people are hard to please. always wanting what’s in their best interest. always wanting the world to make them happy. wanting others to basically bow down to their every wish and command.

“bow down and kiss my feet.”

that’s what i hear when i look into some people’s eyes. my life has been full of, metaphorically, doing just that. kissing their feet, stroking their egos, making the lives of others consistently happy is tiresome work. that’s the way it is when you become whatever the person you are with at the time wants you to be.

i’m not a people pleaser, per se. no. i’m more of a chameleon. a mask wearer. a pretender. and at my most negative, a manipulator i suppose. i don’t become what the other person wants to please them. sure, short-sighted i do. but in the long run i do it for myself. i hate conflict. when you become, and behave, as others wish, you can relax on some level.

i do it because i hate myself. i believe that…

to know me is to dislike me.

therefore, if no one ever knows then i will face less rejection. it is much more difficult for humans to discard and reject what they do not know. i believe that the real me is annoying. after all, i annoy the fuck out of myself. plus, i’m a very private person. i trust no one. yes, i mean no one. the last time i was myself and trusted another i just got hurt. i’m too old for that shit. i have grown weary of emotional pain. so, be what others want, keep everyone at arm’s length and i endure less trauma and less drama.

sure, it’s lonely. yes, this makes some times sad. but it’s far easier to deal with just myself, internally. i am a full time job.

besides, i seem to corrupt everything i touch. i’m not for sure how…but it feels true. so, i touch nothing.

be no one. be nothing. be silent. silence is something i am working on in my real life (as opposed to here, my literary life). here i get to be me. no one knows me. you don’t know my face, my name…nothing. i get to be me. it’s a perfect relationship, really. i get to be me, and you have the choice of reading me, getting to know me, or not. we will never meet. but you allow me to finally be myself. i am grateful to you for that. sincerely.

you know, i don’t do this for “likes” or “follows” or attention. i write things here because it does my insides good to get it out. however foul, stupid, mundane…it’s nice to have an outlet. however, knowing that others will see, and read (hopefully), the things i purge is comforting. it’s nice to know that somewhere out there…someone hears me scream.

i’m growing incredibly tired of social media. all of it. it just grates on my nerves lately. i can feel myself withdrawing further and further into my shell (horoscope sign is cancer). my shell is quiet and comforting. however, i’m the type of person who could get lost in her shell and disappear for forever. which would be ok if i was dead…

death. my lover. we have a long-distance relationship. i feel death, though, on his long journey to me. i never know how far away he is, but i feel him getting closer. he pulls my heartbeat out of my chest and draws it near to him. death. my lover.

i never have to walk on eggshells with death. he loves me and wants me just as i am. the feeling is mutual.

today i had a cup of coffee, though.

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