I am writer, hear me whine

People are judgmental. I guess it’s just how it is. I’m not sure how I became so easily affected by this but I have. Most people have a shield of achievements to deflect an attack of judgment. They have degrees, or you know, respectable incomes. So when some obscure, well-meaning relative says to them “you’re not doing anything with your life!” they can say; “on the contrary Uncle Milton (not sure why I chose Milton, just roll with it), I have a degree in whosewhatsit from the University of Hell and I make thirty-trillion dollars a year.” Though, I don’t think it would take quite so much to impress Uncle Milton, I suppose all it really takes is not trying to become recognized for something that he deems trivial.

I know I’ve got kindreds out there but I feel alone. It’s like most people are living on Earth, comfortable beneath a protective atmosphere that springs into action to incinerate the meteorites of others’ judgment. I feel like I’m on the Moon, with no atmosphere of conventional achievements to protect me, huddling beneath a manuscript while a rain of asteroids hammers down on my head. Ouch.

People only see me when they want to tell me I’m wrong. I want to be visible. I want my efforts to matter.

::whine, whine, whine::