I Want to Be Like Those Nimh Rats

I make a mistake repeatedly
Sometimes

It’s a failure on my part

A failure

To forget that
I’m not special

That’s not to say
I’m inferior to fellow man,
Not to mean I’ve low self-esteem

I grew tired of laps on the Facebook go ’round
(Stayed active for the sake of a good friend and a couple others until finally I took it to the basement for dormant storage)
Then Snapchat ran its course bullet fast, followed by Instagram
And I think finally the WordPress Farce has
Smacked me in the face
Good and hard

Even the observation I’m about to point out is not special either. (I’m perhaps one of millions who have already said it. But, it’s my first official time so I guess it’s fine, once, to say it out in my FFP way)

Trading likes for likes, follows for follows
Just numbers and numbers contained within a hamster’s wheel
Numbers that move numerically upwards but never move us forward

Not much around here is based in actual merit and quality–Trust me, I am definitely not trying to imply that my writing has merit or quality that a choir of cherubs needs to sing over–I watch bloggers sugar each other up
Sticky as fuck
But nobody is actually liking much at all (in the literal sense, not the button clicking sense)
Hardly anyone is reading or really seeing what is there to be seen

(If I am profoundly wrong in saying any of this, may I stand corrected)

So I wonder and I wonder
Who frosting-smeared our integrity?

I can’t get down with the lack of that

I’m not saying I’ve not a couple honest fellow blogger friends
That wouldn’t be true
(I’ve got a best friend and a couple actual friends–that is a whole separate category and that person(s) actually knows me–they are not part of this declarative whatever-the-fuck I’m trying to say–you should half-way ignore me)

But I started to wonder what I’m doing here
I’ve never been one to care about popularity
For popularity’s sake

And I’m certainly not aiming for fame
Or to pluck from cash-bearing trees

I love writing so much I’m actually crying
Right now
Thinking about it
In the presence of only this chromebook to see my

Pink eyes

I’ve come this far but I still have lots more to realize
And improve on the things that I do realize
(In writing and otherwise)

I think it’s best that I acknowledge the positive opportunity that WordPress
Does provide
And that is a free perceived audience (And once in a while, an actual one)
The few times I’ve sent pieces to publishers, it scared the shit out of me and even before rejection/acceptance came back, I suddenly was thunder-hit
By what was wrong with it
And I thought about how blind I was
And how grateful I was to see what was still juvenile or ineffective with that piece

But the “likes” and the “follows” weren’t why I came here and can’t be allowed to concern me in and of themselves
And comments I may have made on strangers’ blogs may be perceived
As a plea
For a reciprocal one, (or God forbid perceived as a flirt-romantic interest, no, no, no, no)
I never intended it that way;
I just legitimately like talking about what I read/write, every bone-shard detail

I guess I’m saying that the whole interactive part of any social media that is done purely for the sake of numbers/recognition itself, cheapness, and not for the sake of the content posted or for some kind of respite, importance, introspection, ultimate betterment…ain’t working for me personally

So let me hold fast to this:
(As I’ve done pretty well so far anyway)
My writing (and discussions about writing, whether posted here, in my own journal, or submitted to publishers) has to be done
For God’s sake
For Love’s sake

May my frontal-lobe slate
Always remain in this state