I don’t often write about the happy things in my life because everyone knows about the happy shit.
As soon as anyone anywhere has a baby, gets married, gets a new job, they shove it in your face via every social media network since the history of the Internet.
Which is fine.
And I’m happy for all of you, seriously. (I’m really not being facetious)
I write about the shit in my life because every time I get a new job, accomplish something great or just have a really good fucking day, there are two million people who want to tell me good job.
But when I’m low, really low, not wanting to exist low, there is almost no one.
I write for community.
I write so that I’m not alone, and you are not alone.
I write to give things like: depression, suicide, abortion and all the ugly realities of this world, a pretty face, because for some reason, a pretty face makes them easier to relate to.
You hear about depression, you think school shooting. You hear about abortion, you think slut. You hear about alcoholism, you think absentee parents. You hear drug use, you think street junkie.
I write to change perception.
Maybe sometimes I do a shit job, but at least I’m trying.
So, to those of you concerned about me: I’m OK.
With that said, I think I might write about some of the happy shit more often, because good things do happen, and it’s important not to diminish them because the good moments are important.