Seen and Heard

Aleksandra Waliszewska

In my 27 years as a "human" on "Earth," I have deduced -- via casually busting my way into the heart of every potential new pal and then being all "it's weird and squishy all up in this left ventricle so I'm... gonna bail" -- that I can be sort of difficult to get to know. I can rock a grand entrance like I can rock a sneaky run on sentence, but once on the inside, I start to experience this strange, ballooning pressure to plate up all the very serious layers of me, and to present a simultaneously dazzling and pithy anecdote to correspond with each layer like one of those singing waiters. I.e. for the first course, please enjoy pickled neuroses pertaining to authority figures served up with an extra sparkly verse about my childhood. Because you should know where your food comes from. Or something. I've never been to a restaurant with singing waiters so this analogy was a huge mistake.

It's probably not shocking that I want to be known, given I have this blog where I serve up my insides to the internet. And because writing is how I process sh*t, when I'm not in the practice of writing almost every day, I become severed from my aforementioned insides. I feel like I constantly need to explain myself, but I can't because I have, of late, given very little thought to my self. Not myself. My self. And as someone who greatly values introspection and personal growth,  this internal skirmish is stupid overwhelming and, in turn, makes me kinda stupid and outwardly inarticulate.

Of course, the need to be known is not unique to me. All "humans" on "Earth" are born with the base desire to be seen and heard. The healthiest among us find a way to express themselves and satisfy said desire in a way that doesn't freak people out, unless they're so self-assured that they don't curr if they freak people out. Get it. What I'm trying to say is that not writing is not working for me. Ever since I stopped popping in here on the reg, I've been insecure in a way that is deeply foreign to me... lost in an angry sea of anonymity and oblivion. Stop. I'm not being dramatic. But I think the very obvious means to returning to my self, re-prioritizing self care, clawing my way to badassery, and not freaking people out is writing again. Duh.

So I'm back. Hi guys. Let's do this.


Rose TruesdaleComment