I'm Thinking

A friend recently warned me to give as little credence to slander as I do to flattery, and I'm taking that advice very seriously for reasons of logic: nobody who tells you what they claim to really think of you is disinterested, whether what they say is positive or negative.

It reminded me that in film studies, the films we categorize as "realism" are actually unusually miserable. But misery is somehow automatically more "real" or believable than happiness. And sometimes it's easier to believe I'm a bitch than to believe I'm Batman: that poor, misunderstood vigilante.

Recently, due to a depression trigger (and environmental factors), I have been keeping very silent about what's going on in my head. I mean, it'll clear up soon. It'll be bright as the weather, and all will be well.

I mean, I guess that's what this blog is for. I have lots of things I want to say, and as the song says, "I could go on, and on, and on, but who cares?" So I write it here.

So I guess. . . I'm back here because there's something I need to say. I don't need anyone to hear it, necessarily, but I need to say it, the way the princess in The Three Ravens screamed her pain into a hole, and buried it.

This is the thing: I am a good person. If you don't think so, you'll need to tell me how you define "good" and "bad" and we'll hash out the semantics in a more private space.

That's all.

I just needed to say that I don't believe the slander. Not anymore. I have contrary evidence.

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