Poor me! Self-pity is something that no one enjoys — either the pitied or the pitier. But when you write on this venue for a year and you entertain people without charging even an itty bitty fee, you get a little angry and put out that NOT ONE PERSON ASKED YOU WHY YOU QUIT.
I mean no one. All the fake friends I met on Medium just want me to clap for them and write wonderful comments about their work, only I rarely read their work products. The truth is I’m selfish to the point that I only can stand writing my own literary kvetches. I don’t have an interest in reading all the other stuff out there. Which might explain why no one cares that I quit Medium.
But what if I told you that I read all the similar-minded people on Medium, loved them to death, but no one reciprocated? I’d be lying but I really believe that I could proceed with that strategy and never make it to the big time. In other words, no one really cares what I do or don’t do on Medium. And that’s perfectly fine since I don’t really care what all my “followers” do or have done on Medium.
Does this make me a heartless bitch? Does this make me a person too consumed with worrying about COVID to read a million decent and not-so-decent writers on Medium? Yes, that must be it. The followers have figured me out. They now know that I’m much more scared of dying than of making serious friends on Medium. And who wouldn’t be?
So I’m going to cancel my account if no one writes me a personal letter of consolation and sympathy in the next month or so. Would you like to be my savior? Jesus Christ, I’m writing this on Rosh hashanah, and I freely acknowledge that even God hasn’t cared a whit that I’m practically out the door of Medium. Why would God care anyway? He or she hasn’t spoken to me in years.
But if you want to salvage my ego and pass along a little kindness, then do so. Quickly. Since I won’t be here for long. Are you scared? I don’t think so. You’re as selfish a twit as I am.