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Wordlessness

Saturday 11/14/20

This is the kind of thing that is common in my world: the person who is supposed to be my closest friend, the person who is my oldest friend, and the family member who has known me the longest, didn't say a word about the new book, between the three of them. Not a text saying "awesome read," nothing. If I say something to two of these people about this, there is nothing but rage. Regarding the family member, I said something to my sister, who said that this individual talks about the book with her kids. The kids have their own copies. They like the art. It's not talking about the book. And I said to my sister, "You'll note that she would not say a word about it to an adult." To which my sister had no response. I spoke to a godparent today. Never once had been to my site. Had never read a word I'd written. Asked me if this was my first book. It's always like this. It's me. That's the common denominator. People don't like me. People like people like themselves. Can I reverse that? I hope so. I'm trying. Or, maybe I should say, "Can that trend be reversed?" I think so. Just because something has always been one way doesn't mean it will continue to be so. Or that it can't be the opposite. But this is twisted. Not one text even from those three people. Not a congratulations. "Awesome book" or "book looks great"--which, let's face it, is next to nothing and insulting to leave it at that, but not even that. Nothing. I knew there wouldn't be. The thing is, people who don't hate you, even if you suck at writing, are supposed to acknowledge what you've done. And they do. For other people. Never mind if you're creating art and entertainment for the ages, and you're also in this situation I'm in, with no support, never anything positive from anyone, near about. The people who will say or do something? Kimball, Pratt, Aaron, Wickett. People I know from a distance. One of whom I've met in person. If I end up killing myself, which is something I always have to fight against, most of that will be this industry, the bigotry, the blackballing, the hate, the suppression. Some will be what happened to me with Molly eight year ago. My quality of life, such as it is, too. The complete aloneness. Not belonging in this world. But a very real part will be people like these three people. Do I think they'd care, after the fact? I really don't. And of course it makes me feel horrible. It makes me feel horrible about myself. These people make me think, "What's wrong with me, to be treated this way?" It's a form of torture, to be honest. And it's really such a small part of these particular relationships, in this direction.


There's a lot to go into with important things that are happening, and I don't want to muddy them by including them in this entry. I'll get to all of that later. I've been working since 3:30 this morning.