People always say they want to “be somebody.” Even I say it. But the truth is, everybody’s version of “somebody” is different. For me, being “somebody” means writing. And I had to go and start dreaming when I was 12 that I’d grow up and write in Los Angeles. I’ve never been able to let that go, and now here I am, 28-years-old and still trying.

I could write comedy; I want to write comedy. But I guess I have a knack for a more emotional genre. You write what you know, I guess.

The thing with dreams is that you can’t stop. It’s an addiction. You spend days, years, daydreaming and fantasizing about the life you wish you had. The life you want. Sometimes people dream so hard that it drives them crazy. The idea of being stuck in the menial lives we live leads some people to just give up. And what happens to a dream when the dreamer is gone? Especially when someone lives and breathes their dream.

The idea of being like, 40, and still being where I am is a terrifying concept. But you can’t fast-forward and see what happens, and you can’t rewind either. I get what everyone says about living in the moment, but for writers…we spend most of our time living in our heads. I can spend days without talking to anybody. I’ll hole up at home, reading and writing for days, without seeing or talking to anyone except my boyfriend. But even he has learned by now that I sink into a world where I’m quiet and introspective and prefer my solitude. I’ve always been like that. I’m a solitary person.

I actually like being alone. I don’t do my best writing when I’m surrounded by others, obviously. Besides, large crowds make me tired, and certain kinds of people make me want to pull a Butterfly Effect and slam my hands down on a chit-stabber. Except instead of hands, eyeballs. I can’t stand fake, and I hate arrogance. I’ve always had more guy friends than girl friends, and I stopped feeling bad about that in high school. Girls are horrible creatures. They lie and bitch and gossip and you can’t trust them for shit. I have a handful of girl friends whom I trust. A very small handful. Lots of girls hate that their boyfriend has friends who are girls. I think it’s silly. Besides, if you start telling your boyfriend who he can and can’t hang out with, he’s going to hate you. Seriously. Being jealous and controlling is pointless and pathetic. Ridiculous people make me tired. I can’t keep up with the elusive “girl talk” that comes out of their mouths, and I don’t exactly give a fuck that you “literally almost died” when you saw your ex at the bar. No female on the planet knows how to use “literally” properly, and even fewer would hesitate before betraying a “friend.”

One of the worst parts of these Real Housewives shows is that it’s basically high school, on TV. Everyone knows silly bitches like that. And now they’re on a channel that’s supposed to propagate learning? The only thing TLC has taught me is that they can’t be trusted to produce worthwhile television. They’re promoting this lifestyle where women are narcissistic, arrogant, backstabbing bitches who are more plastic than person. Are we supposed to be admiring these women? Am I supposed to be PVRing this shit and be glued to my TV over it?

I’d rather watch my nonexistent parents fuck.



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