My Heart Won’t Break If You Don’t like this post

I have come to view the “like”  button with a mixture of hatred and also, a virtual high five, as in, “Cool, I get it.”

At the same time, opening myself up via this blog and the internet’s junior high popularity point system which basically dictates your worth as a writer, and human, is measured in number of followers, number of likes, and how many comments you get telling you how fabulous you are. And frankly, since I am hormonal and pissy and not giving a fuck who I offend…If a monkey could click a few buttons and link everything to Fuckfacebook and Twatter and all the other anti social social networks, he could make himself look hella popular with the numbers game even if all he ever posted were pics of himself flinging poo.

I am bitter. And pissed. I am also finding that for all the validation I have received from interacting with others through this blog…It’s taking something important away from me. My ability to be honest, brutally so. Because now I am aware when people stop commenting or following and it wakens my neuroses, and I have to reread my words and ponder what offended who and was I in the wrong and…


This is a blog to be read by grown ups with the intelligence and maturity to comprehend the “agree to disagree” mentality. Too often we let petty differences destroy things- “OMG, you don’t believe in god? You’re going to hell and I can’t risk guilt by association!” Yeah, people are that vapid and fucking stupid. I DO NOT BELIEVE IN GOD. I do not apologize. I will not watch my language or read any literature telling me how wrong I am. I stand up for my belief, right or wrong, same as any religious person who has faith defends their position. I can respect and accept that. I don’t need to assimilate anyone. My beliefs are MINE.

I’m just getting very close to hitting the wordpress nuke button. An argument can be made that i am pms-ing and everything is pissing me off and I am overly sensitive and emotionally raw and probably feeling impulsive…Never a good time to make changes you can’t undo. The desire is there, though. I adore the seven or so regulars who read my blog and interact with me, I truly do, you guys have gotten me through some shitty stuff. But seriously, seven people who bother to speak to me when I allegedly have 500 plus followers? People can be too lazy to even click like, let alone interact. It feels like high school. “I can’t let word get out I liked this person’s post, she’s got a foul mouth and she probably worships satan and all the death talk, i bet she’s a serial killer! The cool kids will shun me!”

Nuke nuke nuke. Nuke the fuck out of it all.

But I won’t, for now.

Because my mood topple started with the familiar pain of cramps this morning thus setting off the Jaws soundtrack. Shark week is en route. And because I am feeling all wonky and vulnerable and whiny bitch…Someone whose writing I quite enjoyed nuked their blog today. It made me very sad and very lonely. Very much so. Like total mood splat. Nothing against them, do what you gotta do…Just…It was this screaming representation of, “See!!! This is what happens, you let a dish dweller in with their writing and some traded quips, you get attached and then they’re gone.”

Irrational, sure. But this blog is not about spewing logic or rationality. This is MY space to spew MY issues and MY views.

It is NOT in any way, shape, or form, me asking for advice. I get that I have to accept people being assholes. Being reminded of this constantly when all I needed was a vent…Nope. Pass.

I’m a fucking trainwreck. For today, I am okay with that.

So don’t fucking like this post, or any of my posts. In fact, if you’re not going to interact even on a shallow level, don’t follow my writing at all. I don’t need the validation. I need the communication. And if you’re not bright enough to manage that, your like button is as pointless as a second horn on a pegacorn.

That is all. I’ma go back to worshiping satan and devouring the souls of newborns.




18 Responses to “My Heart Won’t Break If You Don’t like this post”

  1. Love ya Morgue.

  2. I £0¥€ you just the way you are, your sarcastic/snarcastic demented sense of humor, honesty (fuck you if ya don’t like me! Really ~ fuck you!), real -take me or leave me,,, Sissy Morgue. I only hit the ‘LIKE’ button to signify “I getcha/understand/empathize,,,” especially when I’m feeling like I wanna be on the underside of the dirt more than breathing, *like NOW* Love ya bunches & thanks for being there for me

  3. it’s cool that you’re just being you ^^

  4. La Sabrosona Says:

    Soooo whatcha wanna talk about? I feel boring as hell right now, and totally incapable of intelligent conversation but I get what you’re saying about lack of engagement. That’s what I have, for some reason. Maybe it’s because I suck at engaging on other people’s sites. Could be. People are very happy to press “like” on my site and not exchange any words. It’s sad. I think I need a blankie named Vanilla now. It just can’t smell like vanilla or I’d need to scratch my nose off. I’d much prefer lemon-scented blankie called Vanilla. I really wanted to not be on the earth last week, or the week before. Sometimes I fantasize about having a basket of eggs with me, in my car, and when someone cuts me off I’d really like to throw eggs at their windshield. I have no idea why I share the things I do with you, only you, only on your site. You are like the Truth-Whisperer. So there…btw I have an extra basket of eggs, they’re rotten actually and you can throw them at whomever you’d like 😀

  5. I was shocked and dismayed about their abrupt departure. I won’t go into specifics here, but I’ll say our tribes-folk will be missed.
    I read and like because I like you, therefore vicious circle of satan worship between us. I have over 220 followers and you know who comments the most? The Femmes because we all know and walk the walk, talk the talk, and “offend by not conforming to the sheeple quo.” Assfuckery. I love you Morgue, for the Shark Week induced emotions and the rest of the month when you are being honest. This shit sucks major donkey balls, and lately it seems like our tribe feels as if it has been violated in some way personal to each of us. And the only way to deal is to Nuke it-which only satisfies the assholiness of the high school mentality. FUCKITALL
    Love you ❤️

  6. I think you are real and fabulous.. I curse all the time and in front I of my 5 kids and I don’t apologize because it’s who I am. They understand that.. So I’m so down with what you are going through because I go through it too. So keep in being you.

  7. Fuck. I was feeling something similar the other day. But the internet is a piss poor substitute for real interaction, which is what’s lacking in so many of our lives. Time with REAL people who give a fuck, who aren’t so messed up in their own shit that they can listen and relate.

    I know what you and Sass mean about the departure. I feel abandoned. I know that’s kind of sick, to be so dependent on this cyber communication. But it’s true. I feel like someone just walked out of my life, and it hurts.

    Just remember – your followers can unfollow you if they don’t want to read your posts. So if you still have 500 followers (holy shit!) that’s got to mean something.

    I love your posts. When I was manic over the last few months I stopped commenting because I felt – and thought you may feel – I was spewing too much feel good skittle-shit. But I kept reading your stuff BECAUSE you’re honest. Because you just spew. I love that. ❤

  8. I’m admittedly rubbish and sporadic about commenting. Things like the like button are a great fallback for when you want to reach out and have no sporks to make more than that half-assed gesture, but still… yeah. It’s definitely nicer to have engagement.

    And pfft, spew on. It’s raw, it’s you, it’s wonderful. ❤

  9. I’m a lazy like-r too. Sometimes you say it all and I’m happy to have witnessed your take. Mine feels superfluous at that point. The like button is a shortcut for saying “I’m here. Keep speaking your truth.”

  10. I’ve always respected you for your fire-breathing truth. You gave me the courage to spit too, instead of hiding the rage. There are times I click like on your posts and don’t comment, but those are the times when I can’t write anymore because my brain just exploded or something. You’re brave and what you’re saying about blogging is a global thing, I think. Please don’t nuke the blog – make stuff private or take a break if you need to, but as the activists say – No Nukes.

  11. Posted this on Beep’s blog, will just retype here, since an explanation is owed. (Sass told me I came across like a self-absorbed jerk by deleting my blog: which may be true, but…) First, I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ll still read your blog every day and I still consider you a friend and I hope you consider me one, too. My commenting may be more limited while I attempt to figure out how to stay alive and put my attention back on my book (it had wandered away). The truth is that my “emotional regulation” is insanely poor, and although I have no recollection of my Friday night blog spazz, or what the fuck I wrote (nuked soon as I came to: I mean, I had 5 klons, a 6 pack of Stone IPA, a bottle of wine, AND a liter of vodka), I’m sure it escaped nobody’s observation that I had developed an unhealthy crush on/crazy infatuation with someone I will never meet or speak to, who is not remotely available, and is actually happy and not a tortured fucking mess like myself. Thing is, I was new to this blogging stuff, I didn’t realize that it works EXACTLY like real life: elicits the same emotions. And it’s even worse, in a way, because we bipolar spend our whole lives feeling like awol misfits and suddenly holy shit here are all the people we’ve been looking for our whole lives only we can’t ever see or speak to them and I think that too began to drive me a little or a lot crazy. At any rate, since I live in language, I don’t really need a pretty face to crank up the crazy infatuation engine, so yeah I’m a fool and worked myself into current fever pitch of misery and epically futile longing so really must skedaddle for a while and try to return to whatever bipolar semblance of sanity that is my deviant norm. Plan is to boot up Blog 2.0 when I move to Madison. I HOPE the tribe will forgive me and welcome me back then, and I can find a sane balance between some kind of life in the world, life in my head, and life in tribe. If that makes sense. I didn’t want to say any of this on my own blog because I was fucking embarrassed of myself. It is a little fucking embarrassing! Just know I’ll be reading you and keeping you in my heart and commenting now and then and I’ll let you know when I’m out of this fucking cage and landed in Madison and re-ready to enter Tribe Life without making a goddamn fool of myself and getting super super inappropriate. Love ya.

  12. Did someone throw holy water at you or try to exorcize the demons? *cracks knuckles* I’m about to close a deal on the scent of onions and sadness; I’ll bottle that shit up in a fancy bottle and send it to your enemies. Fuck it all. I’ve nuked, so I know what that’s like.

    *as I’m writing this lightning strikes and power goes out*


    I’ll miss you like crazy if you nuked. 😦

    (Power was out and I feel asleep. Posting this now.)

  13. I “don’t fucking like your post.” I fucking LOVE it, my dear, irreplaceable and beautiful Morgueticia. I hope I’m around, and on an upswing, to read and enjoy and encourage you, and I hope when the downswing comes you’ll come over and smack me a couple of times for being a whiny little boy-bitch. Bring vanilla AND chocolate ice cream and chocolate sauce, and liquor when you do come over. They taste better than souls (but I am sure, not by far). Try not to sweat the neuroses. It makes the ice cream salty.

  14. […] Morgue, this photo’s for you, because you were the first person that came to mind when I saw it and read it. If you were a cat, that’s the facial expression I imagine you’d have sometimes. it’s the “I’m not impressed look.” […]

  15. I often wish that there was a “I hear ya and understand ya” button along with the like button. I don’t “like” what you are going through, you don’t like what I’m going through. I hate clicking that fucking thing.

    I do hate that I have this pile of followers but, as you said, only a handful of commenters. I never thought that the people I “met” would become so important to me. I thought I was just finding a place to purge my thoughts faster than I could if I was writing in a journal.

    Love ya much Morgue. Hope you don’t nuke your page.

  16. “I can’t let word get out I liked this person’s post, she’s got a foul mouth and she probably worships satan and all the death talk, i bet she’s a serial killer! The cool kids will shun me!” – this has been probably said about me behind my back by so called friends and yes, I get where you’re getting at with the likes and all the shit that the internet provides us with the shit pride and then when someone unfollows or something we actually feel sorry for ourselves and manage to hate ourselves even more.

    I don’t really like commenting because I just have nothing to say most of the time. I appreciate your writing and your venting and sometimes I wish i was as open as you are with your frustrations.

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