Aww, cupcake. I’m so sorry.
Here, let me pat you on the head and guide you to a safe space while the adults just fucking deal.
Look. I get it. Real life is hard. There’s, like, bills and responsibility and alarm clocks and evaluations. It’s, like, seriously style and cramping, ya’ know? You really put your heart and soul into that expletive filled rant against capitalism and someone just stole your freaking intellectual property and shared without even so much as a link back. That sucks! No one will ever know that you wrote that!
How will anyone ever know that you are the super special snowflake that really participated? I know, I know. You just can’t even.
Well then maybe you should odd.
Someone hurt you right in the feels? Take a moment. Breathe in. Let the hurt flow through you. Can you show me on the doll where it tingles now?
Listen. Really, listen. I don’t care how much melanin content you’ve got, who or what you want to consensually rub your gooey parts against, or how you’d like to identify yourself. Are you useful? Can you make me a sandwich? Mow my lawn? File my taxes? Massage my feet while painting my toenails? Entertain me?
No?
Really?
Nothing…
Then why for any deity’s sake should I give a flying flip about your well being? Because you feel discriminated against? Show me.
Let’s play.
I’m a woman of color* in flyover country. I’ve never been able to pass**. I’m a survivor of many things I never deserved, but the sun just keeps rising so I better keep on.
The world has crapped on me and my own over and over and yet, we persevere. You, my dear snowflake, really can too. Yes, you too can own a tiny house in the suburbs with innumerable plumbing problems and mice so your children can go to the right schools and you’ve got the bragging rights of living in the right suburb.
I digress. This is you and your micro-aggressions.
Breathe in. Feel it fully from your forehead all the way down to very tips of your toes.
Mmm.
You. Think of you.
Meditate on you.
…
Good?
So you’re a socialist? That’s awesome. What, exactly, are you contributing to society? From each according to his ability, yes? So, what are your abilities? What are you throwing into the pot for redistribution?
Oh! You have a bowl.
Um…
There’s kind of a lot of people showing up with bowls. I might have some pepper. It might be in spray form.
Someone maybe ought to wash all these bowls people keep bringing. No?
I’d direct you to the ball pit, but you have to sign a waiver. We had to let some un-vaccinated children play there so there might be a touch of polio.
You don’t want to hear me, do you? In fact, you’ve probably stormed away with your spittle rage to your keyboards and are furiously telling reddit what a terrible human being I am. Post a link while you’re at it, ‘k!
I am! I am the awful human being that thinks maybe, just maybe, you should be capable of contributing to what ever perfect society you believe you deserve a place within. It’s true. If you are useless, I believe society should shun you. Kick your worthless butt out. You. Should. Starve.
Does that hurt? Do you need a minute? A blanket?
Who am I kidding? You’ve left. You’re already telling me that I’m terrible in my comments. I like you. You’re going to tell your friends. They’re going to get mad too and visit. They will probably comment. You know what? Happy clicks and angry clicks are totally equal for ad revenue. Do that. I’m a damn evil capitalist. Angry is usually a lot more delicious, profitable clicks. Please, be mad. I like lobster.
Oh right! You can’t deal with this right now.
Hang on. I’m going to have to move some crap out of the designated safe space. The entire house is a deplorable mess, but that should definitely take priority.
Here you go, sweetie. Some gentle head pats. Maybe even a Popsicle.
Right now happens right now. Yep, that sucks the big one sometimes. Sometimes, your car decides that your gas pedal doesn’t really exist while you’re doing 75 MPH down the turnpike. Totally okay. You drive stick. Shove that bad boy in neutral, turn the car off and back on(rebooting the computer), and throw it back into gear at speed without impeding traffic. This is now. It’s a lot. It’s seriously, no doubt, scary. I’ve done it. You can too.
Forget the safe space. Own the scary space. Conquer and overcome.
*I really hate that term.
**Almost as much as I hate that one. In the second grade, I had to explain to my teacher that Filipino is not, in fact, a Native American tribe, but thank you for the paper work that could get me on the rolls.
