the subtle art—and inevitable downfall—of being all talk no action
on (metaphorically) throwing hands, being a hypocrite, and what life could look like if we were more honest with ourselves.
I think we should fight each other more. Pass me a mic on the subway, and I’ll die on this hill: We need to normalize throwing hands. I’d like to think I’m a direct person—though my delivery could always use some work, I try to “say things with my chest” at any given moment, especially the older I get. Someone tries you at work? Cuss ‘em out (or, realistically, send them a nice nasty email)! Your friend says some slick shit about you? Pop ‘em in the face! Have a crush on someone? Tell ‘em! Maybe it’s because I was raised on Bad Girls Club, the Tyler Perry Madea universe, and the worst Wattpad fanfics imaginable, but hear me out. I believe that if we stop letting shitty people be shitty, if we start being more direct in our criticism instead of talking around issues (my ultimate pet peeve), and if we were more honest about our feelings, the world would be a better place—and a lot of you bunch may or may not have the scars to prove it. It wouldn’t be utopia, but perhaps…close to one!
Opps aside (and you know exactly who you are), I’ve been thinking about how much of a hypocrite I actually am. I sit here, typing away at my blog when I should be working (shhhh), without much to back up my claims. I talk shit to my friends about people who have tried me, and how life continues to go all the wrong ways. I complain about how my love life is in the gutter, and how empty my bank account is. I rant about how my career has taken a downward spiral that has made me feel more lost than ever before, and how tired I am of paying racks on racks just to see the same tired skyline. Out of everything listed above, I’ve only addressed one of these matters—and that’s because if I don’t, I’d be homeless with a cardboard box and my $300 sample sale Sandy Liang pumps in hand. What, I never said I was the most financially responsible!
As I contemplate my life and envision what I want it to look like, I realize that first, I must be honest with myself. Over the past two years, I’ve had to confront the fact that I am the sole cause of my suffering. I fume at how wrong people have treated me but say absolutely nothing to fix the problem (Have I ever gotten into a fight before? *crickets*). I rot from my bed high off of lychee-flavored edibles because I refused to take accountability for my career—or the absence of—until now. I sigh at being single when I don’t even leave the house most days, and crash out from people who play with my feelings like a fiddle when they don’t even tick off most boxes on my dating checklist. Hell, I don’t even meet my own standards. I, too, am a loser girl! These days, I’ve been ruminating on where things went wrong. Instead of playing the blame game, I took a long look in the mirror, Issa Rae style, and realized that I am the problem. It’s me.
This ego death was particularly hard because while I can’t control everything that happens, it’s never fun to admit time and again that I (as in me myself!) am responsible for letting problems remain in my life as is, with or without depression. I often sat and wondered who and where I’d be if I addressed the sources of my unhappiness sooner—if I’d be in my dream role with my dream person by my side, confident in my dream body with my pockets overflowing with so much cash that I wouldn’t know what to do with it. Rather than spending yet another year secluded in my four (very…very expensive) walls and sleeping through it, I am in the process of facing the hard cold truth of my past. So far, and surprisingly, I am okay with leaving what was behind. I was who I was then, and I am who I am now. What I want now is different from what I wanted then. And unlike years before, I am more prepared to embrace the unfamiliar and unexpected, no matter how uncomfortable it is. How beautiful is that? If only I came to this realization sooner!
Maybe it’s because the sun is out and my frontal lobe is finally forming (about fucking time), but as I inch closer to turning 25 in May, I am no longer afraid of this reality—or the possibilities of what could be. And I write this not to say my third eye is more “open” than yours, but to give you a brutally honest take on where I’m at in hopes that you, dear reader, are in a better place than I am. And if you find yourself relating to my words a little too much, I hope that this serves as a catalyst to getting it together *slaps face*. Don’t be like me! But also, cheers to the journey—without the challenges and unfortunate circumstances, I wouldn’t have arrived at this very conclusion, at this moment in time. To live out your dream life is to take action, but change must start with you. Now, said change might include fighting that one person you can’t stand. Or maybe, it means taking a tiny step forward towards a (nonviolent) goal of yours. Either way, it’s about ditching the talk and being about the action once and for all. But I’m also for duality, baby.
While I can’t promise you’d get away scot-free if you decked your boss in the face or any other person, place, or thing that tries you on the daily, I can at least say that your memoir will definitely be worth reading. I hope to say the same one day, too.
Thank you so much for reading my work as always. I don’t have much to say here as I just published another post earlier this week with all of my life updates. But! We are close to 1 million (100) subscribers and though it’s not much, I’m so happy to have someone, anyone (!) interested in what I have to say.
If you feel like supporting my work and/or want to see me post more than once a month like today, you can buy me a coffee. Until next time xoxo!
Love you, loser girl!