January’s usually where goal setting’s all the rage. And I’m proud to have stood by last year’s mantra — which is stability — which meant no emotional entanglements until I find security — security, which I plan on working on this year. 🙂
In the process of doing this, I have also managed to quit online-based social relevance and validation dependency by staying low-key on my social media accounts.
I’m proud to say that I have been selfie-free for months.
I’d like to think of it as a movement towards attaining enlightenment from authentic connections not governed by pixellized aesthetics or likes or thumbs up or what have you. Nifty, right? I’m planning on working out a plan for smoothly managing my social media relations with the end-goal of adding more depth to the brand that is myself.
Last first of December, I wrote on twitter that after desensitization, the final form of acceptance is neither apathy nor conquest, it’s coexistence – and that coexistence is a bitch to face.
I have an ex, not the recent one, the recent’s what that tweet’s about; I’m talking about the one before who I finally paradigm shifted into thinking of as a glass-encased trophy in my gallery of mistakes. This is great because all and every form of pining vanished the moment I objectified, moved on, and finally bid a fucking farewell to the past we once had. I had an affair with an exquisitely beautiful man whose tidal betrayal pummeled me to the depths of ruin and I have finally accepted that – bitter pill swallowed, aftertaste gone.
With an apology (mine) and enough time apart, I’ve managed to form an accord consisting of casual nods, handshakes, and occasional invites to check out stuff from our scenes and circles that periodically overlap. This is enough for me because I find the gradual acknowledgements helped me be at ease with (and accept) the fact that I will never feel completely vindicated. I am moving on by thinking that the incredulous amount of approval his pretty face perpetually gets is a gold star on my record for having surfaced through his charming shit scathed but still alive, and a reminder of the travesty of superficial validation he loves to surround himself in. Lions are fond of that so who am I to judge. Lol at the irony of that statement.
Anyhow, I’ve long fantasized about writing him a fitting memorial, a prosaic masterpiece bound to make the gods weep, but as it turns out, this is all you’re gonna get, buddy. Sorry.
Thanks to you, I look forward to 2015 with sheer chirpy optimism it’s plain fucking scary – even for me. So good luck, goodbye, and good riddance.
I dust my hands clean of your treason with a satisfied smile~