Return of the Slack.

I think this is my third post know where I've started off by apologising to my non existent readers for being so slack. I cant even discipline myself enough to write a little something every day. Well you know what? Fuck you.
As if you care anyway whether I've written or not. As if the incoherent ramblings that I come up with on a scarily regular basis mean anything to you other than a reason to imperceptibly tut. As if anyone realises that what I'm saying drowning, not waving.
I mean, thats my role in life isnt it? To be the one that everyone can make fun of, to be the one that people invite to parties because I'm loud and strangers can gel over my lack of social graces. I'm a human icebreaker - just add alcohol.

I begrudgingly admit - this is a role that i play well. And for a while, I revelled in such a role. It afforded me a notoriety that was amusing for a time.

But people can often grow too familiar and it can be offensive and hurtful sometimes. The trouble is, I cant deny any of it.

If you are reading this with a growing sense of alarm and recognition, I salute you sister. Its tough being the butt of everyone's joke.

If you accuse me of being a party animal who doesnt know when to say no, that's me.

If you accuse me of being frivolous with money and not having a safe financial status at any given moment, thats me.

If you accuse me of being lackadaisial about my friends and the effort thats put in to see each pther, thats me.

If you accuse me of being something of a procrastinator, thats me, tomorrow.

If you accuse me of being promiscuous and a little relaxed with my sexual graces, that's me.

But when you call me a drunken whore with little or no morals - why are you so surprised that I might be offended by that?

Sure, we put on a brave face, and laugh it off with everyone else. But take the time to notice that after that, the glass may tremble a little as we lift it to our lips. We may take a few more sips than is necessary, so we dont have to make conversation for a few precious seconds. If we do have to say something, our voice may catch slightly in our throats. And then the bravado kicks in. Because what can we say to defend ourselves?

I was just being me. And this weekend, I was crucified for being me. It kind of makes me not want to be me anymore.

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xxx