Sorry Not Sorry

Dear September, 

I’ve exposed the lowlights of our time together in a very public essay (if you can call it that), and I’m wondering why. It was obnoxious, and raw, and disconcerting. 

It was the best thing I’ve ever written. 

I feel bad, weird, unpleasant, and downright gross about it. Throw some regret in there as well. I am an athlete, and part of my environmental and self-programming (probably the more detrimental of the two) has been to neglect emotion; it’s more difficult to work through difficulty than to ignore it—we know this. More importantly though, I am a young person, newly legal and all, but there are people who claim responsibility over me. Not sharing my emotions and thoughts was easy, until I tripped and fell over the fork in the road. While laying here, struggling to find my footing, I wrote about contemplating a squeamishly permanent end and published it. 

I am bat shit crazy (I use “crazy” loosely) 

This isn’t my first day with vulnerability, but referencing mental health and body image in a conversational, chunky prose as done in “Thick” & “In The Thick” is different than dicing up my foul-smelling, aesthetically displeasing little burden and Amazon gifting it right there onto your screen—surely the people could have done without it. 

I’m sorry for sharing because I don’t feel strong; I’m being bullied by things that people can’t see. I’m being hit by punches that are equatable only to the likes of them, and despite my efforts to relate, I’ve failed an innumerable amount of times. I’m sorry for sharing because also unlike the aforementioned personal essays, this isn’t behind me, it can’t be. Why? Because I’m standing on it. To anyone *cough* B *cough* who doesn’t believe I’m 5’9”, this is no longer in question. This sticky, stinky bullshit keeps me off balance, and it’s going to grow more grotesque. Yes, my expectation is grim, but it’s real. I can’t prepare for what’s to come, but I sure as hell won’t be caught off guard when it does. In a quiet way, I’m sorry for not feeling sorry about saying what should be said louder and more frequently than it already is—I’m sorry to the people that think I should stop oversharing. 

I have to say, I love grand gestures, or did, or maybe still do, but this is my biggest to date—the purest of my “live in your truth” moments. All in all though, despite the weirdness, and overall discomfort that I know I’ve inflicted on others and thereby on myself, I don’t plan on changing anytime soon. 

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