This is a story about a lack of insight...

I didn't invent the English language. I didn't invent consciousness and feelings. I didn't invent thought. So, how can I ever have an original thought or idea? How can I ever write something original? Everything I ever think and write is going to have been thought about and written about somewhere else, by somebody else.

In fact, the idea of originality is a dumb one, borne out of pretentiousness. Anybody who thinks they're being original is horribly egotistical, and also wrong.

I cringe a little when I see aspects of myself reflected writing that's smugly taking the piss out of angst-filled teenagers. It's quite easy to mock and belittle. It's quite easy to hide behind a comforting wall of sneering cynicism and criticism. I cringe, but I'm glad that I write - I'm glad that I expose myself and my flaws. I'm glad that I set myself up as a somebody who can be easily attacked. I give you the ammunition, and you use it.

My intention of writing so much is to exhaust my enemies. I've written so much that nobody can ever catch up with me now. I've written so much that anybody who's determined to tarnish my name will never be able to do it with their words, because mine outnumber theirs by an order of magnitude. Bullies are quite lazy and cowardly, and they will pick on easy targets - they will bully the vulnerable.

In the process of making myself incredibly vulnerable - admitting to every vanity and flaw in my character; every freakish fetish and grotesque quirk - I'm actually protected from anybody who wants to prey on my weaknesses. It's impossible to shame and embarrass me. If there's anything compromising that you wanted to know about me, it's all here, documented in unflinching detail. If you wanted to try and blackmail me or otherwise coerce me, you wouldn't be able to because everything bad about me is written down and on public display.

Ok, not everything.

I'm going as fast as I can. I feel like my life is in imminent danger, so I must get as much of myself down on paper as possible. I have to write everything, because my writing will be all that's left when I'm dead. I don't fear death... I fear being misunderstood.

Of course, it's terribly teenage angsty to write such a thing, isn't it? Surely I should cringe and self-censor when I write those words: "I fear being misunderstood". Surely I know it's not cool to admit to such things. Surely I know that being a grown up is all about pretending to not be affected by fear, anxiety, insecurity and all the other ailments of the mind; the existential questions around identity and morality and mortality. Surely I should pretend to be more cool, and pretend to be more adult.

When my writing is discovered, I'm sure I will become very famous.

Can you see the dry humour? Can you detect the self-deprecation? Can you see that the irony is not lost on me? Can you see that I'm aware how pretentious I am? Can you see that I write things that are like little traps, designed to elicit an emotional response from you? Can you see that I'm deliberately provocative? Can you see that your first reaction is the one I intended you to have, but it doesn't mean that you immediately understand who I am and how I think?

I feel all the emotions that you do; the things that hold you back from writing with honesty and authenticity. I feel those things, but I write anyway. I don't care that I'm making a fool out of myself. In fact, I'm deliberately making a fool out of myself. Having been bullied and abused for most of my life, I'm punching myself in the face so that at least I'm the one who's in control. If I'm going to get punched in the face anyway, it might as well be me doing it, rather than my tormenters.

I insult myself and declare my flaws so that it's not interesting for you to attack me. If I've already done the thing that you wanted to do - to shame me; to abuse me - then there's no sport in it anymore.

I try to head off every criticism at the pass. I try to anticipate every potential way that I'm going to be attacked, and make sure that I'm first past the winning post. If you try to attack me, I'll simply refer you to something I already wrote. Eventually, you'll see that it's you who is unoriginal, not me.

"I've heard that one before" I often think, rolling my eyes. It's all here... the proof. I have documented proof that your idea is unoriginal. If you're going to come at me, make sure you've done your damn homework. Except you won't, because you're too lazy. Thus, I'm protected. Instead of getting upset when I'm attacked, I have the comfort of knowing that I already exhaustively addressed the topic. I'm almost immune from attempts to shame, embarrass and otherwise abuse me.

As I write, I don't excuse my actions, behaviours and thoughts that are not morally as I would wish them to be. I don't write to justify myself. I only write to be transparent; open and honest; candid. Through transparency, I remove the power that those who know my secrets have over me. I have no secrets. I'm an open book, and therefore it's not possible to shame me by sharing details of my most compromising material. I already shared it. It's already written down.

I'm flawed. I'm a flawed individual. I've done things that make me groan aloud and cup my face in my hands. There's a seemingly endless list of embarrassing things I've said and done. However, I'm making a bloody good attempt to write it all down, so it no longer has any power over me.

What do you see, at the end of the day? Do you see evil? Do you think I'm a bad person? The more you get to know me - and you can know as much as you like - the more you start to have doubts about my character... maybe I'm not such a nice guy after all. What should we do with me? Lock me up? Kill me?

Having been bullied and abused for so much of my life, I have pretty strong views on how we should treat vulnerable people. I think I'm able to quickly detect injustice. I think of myself as perceptive, when it comes to psychological abuse - I can see the subtleties in human interactions, and detect the power struggles and detestable misbehaviour.

Really, I should be coerced into silence. I should be shamed into a dark corner, never to be seen or heard from again. Why the hell am I so damn noisy?

I'm so damn easy to hate.

Tags: #writing