Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Because Y'all Think I'm Crazy Anyway

Wednesday, November 07, 2007
At the risk of giving the blag-o-sphere, everyone who reads this, and anyone who may someday google me the impression that I am, in fact, a crazy psychotic bitch with raging neurosis and an inability to move the fuck on already- I'm going to post this anyway.

I was clearing space on my hard drive or startup disk or whatever it's called, I'm not Megan from IT, give me a break people. Anyway, I found a folder of unpublished blog entries. (I may have mentioned them before) I've decided, after 24 hours of contemplation, to post one from about 10 months ago.

Because I think it's well written.

And because I don't feel this way anymore.

At least, that's what I tell myself.


For Your Reading Pleasure:

I stalk your internet dating profile. It's a casual hobby, you see- I barred myself from doing it regularly because it is slowly driving me absolutely insane. I check about every 6 weeks, maybe once every 2 months.

Twice this week.

You logged in yesterday. Before that, February 22. Before that, December 11. I can only assume you like things in multiples of eleven, but yesterday broke the pattern and destroyed that theory.

I like to know you're still looking. That the fact that you log in potentially means that you're cold and alone in your downtown apartment with the magnificent windows. That you're trying to find someone else to top me; that no one keeps you warm at night, no one listens to you read your stories.

I also take great solace in knowing that every word on your profile has been ripped from the pages of one of those aforementioned stories. None of your work is original. None of your smooth lines or your angsty-tales; your poetic way of capturing your soul is actually not your work. You stole it. Robbed someone else of their expression. Plagiarized it, which in my fresh-from-the-undergrad mind is a crime worse than any other. The very phrases that made me fall so deeply for you weren't in fact any expression of you- you were hiding behind them, so flat and so dull that you need to steal to make yourself feel interesting.

But then again, it burns. It is killing me. Because you could be with me, in a heartbeat, but I wasn't enough, and you're searching for someone else.

I found you out, you stealing, lying, fake son of a bitch.

2 comments:

Adam Stephens said...

You want to know crazy? My ex-girlfriend once made a hate-website of me for about a year. I actually found myself on this site after googling myself and it was one of the first. Scary.

Anyhow, had to call the isp to have it removed because the ex refused.

Meg said...

A hate website for a year? Using your name?

That is crazy. I just allude to hatred. And I try to remove identifying details.