You – yes, you! All you gazillions of visitors clicking over here from that other place. What’s your deal? What is drawing you here? And once you’re here, what the hell are you looking for? Huh??
IF YOU WON’T TELL ME, HOW CAN I MEET YOUR NEEDS?
Alright, so maybe there aren’t gazillions, but there are definitely gadozens. And that’s, like, a lot (or ALOT, even) for me here on my little blog. And, dammit, I’m glad you’re coming by but you are setting off my anxiety-o-meter.
Who R U 2 judge ME? Huh?
The truth is you probably don’t give a fig about me. Probably because I use phrases like give a fig. That, there, is enough to chase most people off. I know that – it’s part of my charm. I may only have two regular readers, but they think I’m charming. Probably.
But you – all you gadozens of new visitors, you’re just trying to be so stealthy and sneaky. You come in and read something. What – like maybe my boring bio (I admit right there that it’s boring!) or my most recent post which is my worst post ever. Probably.
And then you leave. Just like that.
I’m left over here going “I can do better! I can tap dance. I know how to do jazz-hands. I have poetry to recite. I know how to make delicious buttery dill potatoes.”
I have talents, people. I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I probably have some sort of talent to draw you in. But are any of you giving me a chance? Noooooooooo. You just strut in here like you’re all that, look around, turn your noses up, and leave.
WHO IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
Frankly, I’m pretty pissed off. I go to all this hard work – I put up a fucking POST CLOUD for you! Last month, I didn’t even know what a post cloud was, but now I have one because I care that much. For you. It’s all for you.
But you don’t appreciate anything I do. I work my fingers to the bone, you waltz in here (oh, for the record, I can waltz too – do you want waltzing? I’m probably better at waltzing than tap-dancing. In truth, I haven’t got a clue how to do either, but you wouldn’t know that because you’ve never even given me a chance!) and just decide my contribution isn’t up to your snooty standards.
I can hardly stand to look at you anymore.
I used to think that whatever you could give me, it would be enough. I used to think “If they would just visit, that would be fine. I’ll ask no more from them.” I used to think that I loved you so much, I would just accept whatever leftovers you had to give me, without complaint.
But, dammit, I’m worth more than that.
I guess what I’m trying to say is…. well, at first I was afraid – I was petrified. Kept thinkin’ I could never blog without you by my side. But then I spent so many nights minutes thinking how you did me wrong and I grew strong and I learned how to get along.
Although, yeah, sure – I’m all strong and I don’t need your judgment and all that. But if you buy me a drink, I will totally clean your tile grout for you.
Maybe I’m not as strong as I thought.
Welcome to my blog! Come on in without wiping your feet. Go through my medicine cabinet. Eat my left over macaroni salad.
Will you teach me how to waltz?