Letters

It’s been several years since I’ve published a blog post, here and on other accounts. I’m mysterious that way, having multiple identities. Yeah, so there’s that. So here’s the thing…I’ve gone completely mental. One thing I decided to regain my sanity is to start writing again. Interestingly, writing, especially on a platform like this, makes me more mental because 1) I’m basically an introvert, and 2) there’s a special satisfaction in getting my ya-yas out for all to hear. Queue up cognitive dissonance, aka another psychological problem to be examined.

One thing I’ve noticed in the search for sanity is that I fall short in what I say and don’t say to people in my life. On one hand I say too much and get into deep trouble because I tend to be uncouth with a touch of no tact; however, I’ll speak the truth as I see it. To avoid those confrontations I’ve experienced I tend to suppress my expressions, which leads to emotional constipation. So, what I’m dealing with is a choice over verbal vomiting and alienating people or shutting down completely aka, shut the fuck up, just talk about the weather and get no satisfaction, aka emotional constipation.

So, as a nod to my cognitive dissonance I thought, hey, write letters to “some people.” I can express, but not directly. I can spare the people the terror of my wrath in person, while also giving my brain the the laxative necessary to unclog.

So, I present The Letters series. The recipients are to remain anonymous. This is my therapy. This is my anonymous puke and poop fest. I lay myself open for comment, criticism, commiseration, and/or compassion from you strangers in the dark.

God bless my targets.

Plus, I’m not a holy girl, so God forgive me for using your ever loving holy name in in my posts. God’s a thing. Apparently ghosts are not.

Damn I’m a weirdo.

The End