The Insanity of Immaturity on Social Media.

This is going to be one of those posts that are worthy of taking a picture of and sharing with somebody else.

Since my existence on Facebook I’ve been so popular for that. Probably because I have no problem saying if you’re not my “friend” — either because you can’t handle it or because you’re not allowed  — it’s none of your f*cking business what I say. Pointing that out always gets the childish, juvenile.Facebook busy bodies fired up, doesn’t it?  As does pointing out that I always worry about the emotional maturity of people who get off on stuff like that. Read a book, watch a ball game, run a mile. Just stop acting like you’re 12.

Anyhow,  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this since I watched the six o’clock news.  So, the two people that the drunk driver that crashed this weekend killed were two 18 year old college student? Unbelievable. Yet, you see…it’s moments like that that I realize I’m okay with myself.

I could set here with my ESPN radio and my cat and think…. “Oh, I’m such a f*ck-up who everybody is ashamed of, that belongs in a home, that nobody wants anything to do with, that everybody hates,  yada yada yada… Blah. Blah. Flipping blah.” 

But it’s moments like this that I’m at peace with myself.

Because thanks to God,  some really amazing people, and a book that helped sober over 2 billion people worldwide, it’s been 10 years that I’ve been able to lay down to sleep at night without fear that I may randomly stop for a beer on my way to Dunkin Donuts and wake up in jail for having killed two kids because I can’t control how much I consume once I start.

People that live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones and people who can’t stop getting drunk — or are  surrounded by or a attached to — those that can’t stop getting drunk, really shouldn’t criticize other people for their life choices. By the grace of a God that you can’t even begin to calculate my dependence on, I did one of THE  hardest things anybody will ever do.

So f–k you.  You don’t get to tell me my worth.

Running around the lake for weeks now, I’ve had the same thoughts in  my head. The same ones I’ve been bouncing off cyberstalkers for years now, these: If your entertainment is screenshotting shit,  talking about  people behind their back and then texting, calling, messaging them when you think that you can get them mad at somebody else that you’re pissed at —  particularly when it’s none of their damn business — or if you get a rise over getting somebody else involved over something I’ve written, or if you’re one of these people whose main source of entertainment is these ridiculous gossip group Facebook sites, congratulations on living a superficial and self-absorbed existence that people like me can’t possibly fathom. We’re too busy trying to keep our damn head above water over the unfair crap that life throws at us and the demons that try to take us down every day, we don’t have time to worry about about somebody else — let alone what somebody who’s not even our damn “friend”  — post on their Facebook page. Most days I’m just busy trying to live, and if there’s any energy left over, I try to right the inequalities and racial wrongs that I see every damn day.

There never has been, there never will be, any room in these mental faculties for your bullshit. I’m okay with me. Because I fought like hell to stay myself. It’s your dang inventory if you’re not. And no amount of cyber bullying, gossip, resentment, or verbal abuse will ever change that. Isn’t that a lesson my cyber stalkers learned the hard way. (Thank God, they finally quit reporting me to Facebook,  once they realized reporting me and inboxing me threatening messages wouldn’t make me take down  the post where I call them out by name.)

But it did do a darn good job of making them go away.


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