It’s been hard to write lately; not because I’m uninspired, but because I worry who might hold my thoughts expressed against me. I’ve learned I’m not liked by some – and the dislike is so intense that it’s vicious and overwhelming.
I’m reminded often that impressions (however false) are made quickly and they don’t dispell. I suppose I can’t please everyone. I can’t imagine trying. But it’s so hard to know – to have it made painfully obvious – that I’m the target of rage.
I try. I’m a genuine person. I’m practiced in tact. I care. I never want to make others uncomfortable, to make them feel less worth. So it hurts when I’m falsely accused of errors.
My outlet suffers. I’ve no desire to add fuel to foolishness. I’m guarding myself against criticism. Lord knows I’ve had so much scrutinized, picked apart. I just need to pause, separate and move on.