cluttering the net since 2001

i am not a writer...i am a survivor

Sunday, Feb. 01, 2004
In light of all the harassment I receive on a rather daily basis regarding my life, what I write here, my mistakes...my life...my thing here called my diary. One tiny spectrum of who and what I am....I have always given a great deal of thought to stopping. Just stopping it all. Living with clinical depression...it's always a struggle to find the warmth from the sun to hold me on those cold empy emotional days.... When I come here to my diary and vent my thoughts, its not to make friends, it's not to be anything but one with myself. But I'm human like anyone else and if people set out to be hateful in large doses at some point and time this would affect anyone. I always figured if someone feels compelled to comment, so be it. If not so be it. I stopped my guestbook and got a few people telling me I was not being that strong person they know me to be by cowering and hiding from those few people who feel the need to be ugly towards me.

I have held back recently from talking about things here...and that in itself makes me wonder if I have lost the real purpose of why I write here. I end up hurting people who are nearest to me when I write that I am lost..or I am struggling or I am thinking thoughts in my deepest parts that I have not expressed to them.

It used to be that no one in my real life paid much attention to what I was writing here...BF now does pay attention. So if we're having a particularly difficult day like today ended up being I would simply ignore it here.

I got an email from a rather longtime friend....she stated ...

"I still draw lots of strength from you Kristy, when I read things that are going on or when I know that things that are happening to me, you have been thru and survived....."

I never saw myself as a survivor, maybe a mistake maker, a lost cause, a mass of confusion...and I am sure I am still all of those things. But a survivor? Yes I am one of those, why is it that someone else can see me in a light I myself cannot find. For those words, I couldn't have paid enough for them to have been so sincerely given. For those words, I am reminded once again that a few people with small minded goals to be hurtful and immature don't really matter in the big scheme of life. I am who I am for thousands of reasons, one of which is, I might be pushed down a lot, left behind alot, dissapointed alot, misunderstood far too much, but I am still here. Still here, being me. I am far from perfect, I let small things bother me in big ways. I find it hard to let past wrongdoings go.

Furthermore, lately tons of people have come around to tell me that just because I read a lot and have a lot of books and call myself a writer (which...I'm not so sure I ever truly have done that...but I could be wrong), doesn't mean I am a writer. I suppose those authors on the bestseller list right now have detractors and people who want to say their book shouldn't be on that list as well. I have finally accepted that my biggest enemies will be the first to read what I am writing. What's it feel like to be wasting your time reading my words when you are so much better than me??? Funny, when I was 12 and 13 I just wanted my mom to stop cleaning the house long enough to read something I wrote. To think someone that hates me and despises me gives of their time so freely to read my words, well hell that just makes me grin from ear to ear really.

Somewhere in this entry I lost my train of thought, but that's ok...because tonight I am feeling grateful for being who I am, for having made it this far, for knowing that little can stop me from going forward and being all the things I want to be.

Because I am a writer, the fact that you just read my words makes me a writer. It's pretty simple really.

p.s. thanks to that person for what you said...i know you didn't know it, but i needed to hear that.
11:42 p.m. ::
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