I was talking about bending things to my will. I was giving you my Imposter Syndrome's origin story. I fully intended to seduce you. I was going to paint you this beautiful portrait of a brown girl who always felt like she wasn't good enough. I was going to tell you how I've always loved writing and how "I'm a Writer" still catches in my throat. I was going to tell you that writing this, for you, is like locking eyes with love in a crowded room. How it feels for the first time, in a long time, like I am here. Did I tell you guys about the time I came home and found The Lady reading my diary aloud to her friends? The cackles still echo in my head. That day the ink dried.
Today I started a gig. It's one of those gigs that requires a drug test, uniform, hours of online training and offers a hefty snitch incentive. Within two hours, my co-worker had already used the terms "faggot" and "sissy" and some drunk dude had already asked if I was that co-workers mother. Really. On a positive note, It's expanding my circle, giving me a little freedom and allowing me to practice my smile. These are good things. But my knees are pissed and I haven't even told em we have to go back tomorrow. I am TIRED AS HELL. I want to get back to the story, but I could care less about bending anything but this heating pad around my leg.
But here I am, carving words into wood.. Here, I take my time. Here, I do not filter. Here, I do not hide. I must come here. I must look you in the eye. I will not belittle myself here or hang my head. I will not mumble underneath my breath. I've set up a Patreon. Because this computer is two steps from glory and I basically have to hold my breath to get it to charge. Because I'm an artist and I think this work has value and while I'm fully aware that I am prosperous and I am totally manifesting wealth, nobody told J.P. Morgan Chase. They think I'm broke. They text me everyday to make sure I know they know.
But mostly, I've set it up because pain gives it to you straight no chaser and I don't know how long my body will hold up. I'm about to start a second gig with uniforms and play money. Shoe money. I might be doing to much, but I have to strike that match. I know that life is beautiful and I'm so blessed to have this time with The Lady, but Imma need a door or I might push her out of the bed. Maybe tonight. On that note, I'm totally going to bed. I have to be corporate tomorrow. If you'd like to become a patron, it'll help keep the ink flowing.