Anytime someone tells me they’ve read my blog I am a combination of embarrassed, amazed and chuffed to bits. Mainly embarrassed. But it got me thinking, for all those people who I know or have known in real life that have read this, I wonder how many read it but don’t tell me? I wonder if anyone reads my struggles and actually revels in it? I wouldn’t be surprised to be honest.
There have been times in my life where I have said things a little close to the knuckle, or spoken out of turn, of course there has. But there are also times that things said have been said totally out of context of changed to suit someone else’s story. And because I am a self proclaimed loud mouthed bitch, it’s a bit too easy to believe that I’m nasty too. Which I’m not. Pretty much anything I say, good or bad, is honest or at least what I believe.
I don’t think honesty is always the best policy. I think there are many times I should have just shut the fuck up; I know there are many times that Pete wishes I would have just shut the fuck up. But I’m me, and I can’t be told. Or quieted.
Except I don’t know if I am still me. And I’ve put myself on here in a very raw and vulnerable state and this is not the bitchy facade that people are used to, so to feel that anyone may be reading this and feeling pleased that I am struggling or even taking the piss is pretty shit really.
But know this, it says a lot more about you than me and always remember; karma is a bigger bitch than I am. So good luck with that.