A dude took me for someone who thought no one understood her while she had the same problems as everyone else, once. He's totally fucking right. I'm going to continue thinking no one understands me, until I get the notion that the majority of people that I am introduced to understand me. Understand me! It's innately important to me. A crucial part of survival, if you think about it. Even those who achieve success by being misunderstood for the most part, are at least understood to be misunderstood.
I'm not even going to get into the "I used to be able to explain myself but I got shy and blah blah blah" crap pile, because then I'll really deserve to have someone slap me back into the cypress swamp that is reality.
People only want to read what's wrong with things, what's trendy to a given cultural division, and what's wrong with what's trendy to a given cultural division. Does that say something about writers and less-than-writers who like to snicker about all the material they hack out? It says that things suck, some things are cool and the approval of such things can be a basis of association, and some things that people think are cool actually suck, they just need someone to tell them why it truly does.
It's dangerous to assume the meditations of society. It could all be a big illusion. You could be projecting everything you think onto everything you see. You could be really sick.
I can't stay up any later. Fuck that insomniac writer persona. His pain is nothing compared to what the expressively stifled, mummified soul who sleeps all day and can't write or draw. Yet his strength through his pain is celebrated in high regards.
Because he writes, and through that, PEOPLE FUCKING UNDERSTAND HIM!
