A strange feeling grabbed me the other day – my chest tight, sweat breaking out on my back, heart jumping from its seat. What was it? PMS (more like menopause, Kathrine, you 39-year-old darling!), maybe it’s guilt? Maybe I really did fuck up with that last post? Maybe I went too far? Maybe it’s…guilt?
Aaaaaahahaha, no, you silly goose, Kathrine, something within me laughed. I realised that feeling was something bigger than my heart could handle – no, it wasn’t guilt. It was - JOY! Huzzah! I AM winning!
How come? You might ask. Because I realized I still have so much to give! I have everything to give, except a single fuck about what some Xanax-popping-whiny-floppy-bellied-woke-lazyass-wankers think about me.
Because I’m not sad about not being invited to the party. I AM THE PARTY.
And so are you.
If you have found something you love – writing in this case – every time you type or scribble those words, it’s a party, and you are the VIPs. The Creators. Indeed, my friends, you are gods!
No one can take that away from us. We create, we release our creations into the world – may they be birds or dragons, it doesn’t matter. Art, self-expression can only thrive in freedom. My freedom is living uncensored – I will put out my ugliest confessions. Pour kerosene over them and let them burn. Oooh! Watch out, a spark might get caught in your head! That freedom thing, yeah? It might be contagious…It might make you want to ask questions. Oh, no, no, no, don’t go there, free-thinking is dangerous! If you dare to step out of that line of niceness, you might end up all alone and… CANCELLED!
I don’t care. You can’t cancel somebody who doesn’t play by your rules. I write whatever I want. I read whatever I want on Substack. I get wherever I want if I’m curious. If it means walking on alone – I will. My friends are dragons, who understand the need to burn. My friends are tested in fire. Sometimes the fire is mine. And those strong enough will fly by my side. I will fly into the sunset alone, but I will not sacrifice my wings or my fire to walk with others, bending my back, and keeping my head down, to blend with the crowd.
I have stories to tell, I have thoughts to share, I have a big fat heart I want to serve on your plates, and let me tell you, that thing is full of juicy ideas.
Do you think this is cope? It’s not. I suddenly realised how much I have. How much I can give. How grateful I am for everything God has given me. It’s more than I have ever prayed for. More than I hoped for. More than I deserve.
Are you grateful? If you can read this, if you can write and create, you should be grateful. We are the winners.
You know, I’ve read very controversial things said about me. Some say, I alienate my readers. Others claim I would write anything to get attention. If you want to read some fun stuff people have said, check this out. People say a lot. What do I have to say in my defence?
Fuck your opinions. All of them (see? I’m a quick learner. This response is something I’ve been taught by the most cultural fiction writers on Substack. Because the slurs I use are apparently inappropriate. Fuck you is more commonly used here than retarded, I suppose). All those who have a problem with me, I have only one response – tough.
Tough to see something you can’t touch (am I right, Chris? Ha ha). I am winning because I refuse to lose. I am doing what I like, even if it’s just a hobby. If you love what you’re doing, if you feel like you’re on top of the world when you write, or when you have written – you are winning. No one can take it away from you. They can try but they will never win. Those with losers’ mindset will never win, no matter what the numbers say. Victories are gained first and foremost in our own heads. Numbers and wins are only the garnish on that victory cake. If you have already won the internal demons gnawing on your confidence, you are the winner. And that victory cake is waiting for you – trimmed as fuck and ever so sweet.
I am filled with unexpected joy. I can experiment, I can create, good or bad, it doesn’t matter.
So, don’t give into gloomy thoughts, telling you are worthless, and your creations are good for nothing pieces of shit. Turn your back on those voices. Don’t follow them into the swamp of self-pity. Don’t look back at what you leave behind. Move on. You will do good because you love doing it. You will win. Huzzah!
Move forward, put in the work, validate yourself, and fuck the opining of the peanut gallery. A solid formula for victory of the self.
I'm glad you feel like you got your mojo back. So, when's the next story?