I haven’t written in a while. Would you like to know why? Well, I don’t really give a fuck if you want to know why. I’m writing this. You can go away whenever you care to. The greatest writers lay it all out there. Regardless of the genre of writing, honesty seems to be the key to memorable and effective writing. Authors who take chances tend to succeed throughout history. There is one genre that tends to suffer from honesty roadblocks. This newer version of autobiographical conversation referred to as “blogging” is addictive for the writers and the audiences. However, no one wants to read a bunch of sugar-coated bullshit. Blogging became the literary version of reality television. Although, most of reality television is now scripted.
Honesty got me where I am today. Miserable and lonely. I absolutely have zero filters. Over the years, I was told by friends that they appreciated my candor. They were full of shit. People want to hear what they want to hear. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The greatest part about my state of mind and the state of my few existing relationships is that I have nothing to lose. I tried during different phases of my life to change. I attempted to squash the honest, confrontational believer in justice and righteousness. That lasted about 3 seconds.
So, I fight. Fighting is what I am best at. I don’t always aim the fight in the right direction, but dammit, I’m honest. I ruined relationships. I probably damaged my kids in some way. I don’t fight with them, but I have eliminated people in our lives due to the fighting. I haven’t decided if I regret my actions. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. I don’t think I could live the life of courteous lies and complacency.