Blood Tangent | Sarai Nissan
I’ve propped myself up in my bed, really just a mattress on a dirty hardwood floor that I try to make look nice sunbathing in the light from the screen of my laptop. I open Google Chrome until there are six windows at the bottom right corner of the screen all boasting at least 10 callously ignored internet tabs. A window full of articles I need to write that I gave up on weeks ago hovers in the background while my eyes scan for something to watch on Netflix. I give up on that too. I don’t know why this is relevant to the next two paragraphs but I figure I would give you some context into my daily life right now.
You know, I really love-hate writing about myself, even more when other people read it. I say love hate because I am kind of a narcissist and find a way to center most things around myself, but also kind of a masochist and this confessional style writing I throw myself into makes my blood rush and heart race. It is the masochism of confession.
These days, when anyone can write anything and publish it anywhere in a world of snide anonymous comments or cruel full disclosure, writing about oneself is that much more nerve wracking. It feels even better that’s sarcasm when these columns of mostly half-coherently written word vomit that has to be marked up with red pen by copy editors before I hand it over to my two other editors to literally (well, not literally) pick apart my brain, which literally (actually this time) makes me clamor for any validation that whatever drivel I am writing is actually good. But when you get involved in any sort of writing industry you have to get used to it.
I realize most of this might not make much sense to you, unless you have published something in a relatively respectable publication for the world wide web to see and probably not read. Not to sound arrogant or anything, although I definitely might. The only tip I can give to you other narcissistic masochists is: you’ve gotten this far you’re probably doing something right.
So, one day when you’re in my position at some point in your life, maybe you’ll thank me. This is you’re welcome, in advance.