Author Skye Falcon Honest Author Moments & Happenings Being an Author with too many Thoughts…. and ‘My Honest Blame’

Being an Author with too many Thoughts…. and ‘My Honest Blame’

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Being an Author with too Many Thoughts…and ‘My Honest Blame’

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Maybe you know, maybe you don’t….. I’m an emotional writer. I write the best when I’m extremely pissed off, or extremely happy. I write pretty well, I think, when I’m in a “neutral” mood. Here lately, there has been so much going on, that the overload of emotion has been rough! Too many thoughts, nowhere safe to keep them. Too many thoughts, no book big enough to hold. Too many thoughts, no one there to vent to. Bah.

Being an author isn’t easy. Have I said this before? It’s hard, and sometimes a pain in the ass. In the back of my head, I still want to go into medicine. But, that’s about next to impossible with the stupid medical stuff. Instead, I focused on teaching….I freaking love teaching. Kids, adults….about science, or sex. (For clarification, I prefer the sex education. Really bothers me that so many adults don’t know the basics about safety. OH! Can of worms…) My kids are getting older now, and wanted and needed to grow. So, into the accredited smart kid programs they go. That leaves me with a lot more time for writing! When I typed that just now, all 48203856 stories ran through my head at once. Now I have a headache.

So, welcome summer! The making of the cook book with Gluten Free for Me….and 48203856 stories to create. I literally have that many, and while I’m so excited to fully step into my author life…it’s sort of scary, too. No one hands you anything in this line of work. It’s up to me, the family who chooses to support me, and my friends who are willing to help a girl out and share a status, or talk up her book……and Skye Falcon. 🙂

I wrote the below stuff to get rid of some of the negative nasty’s in my life. No, it is to no one specific person, or about one specific situation. It’s just a lot of words, mashed together. Maybe you can relate, and most likely, if you’re a mom, or ever tried to be a friend….you can.

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My Honest Blame.

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If I was to be honest right this moment, I would tell you I’m tired of being shafted, and taken advantage of. I’d tell you I HATE being sick. I’d tell you I’m tired of being undervalued, underpaid, underappreciated…and used. I’m tired of repeatedly putting myself into the line of fire for you, only to be left hanging alone. I’m tired of hiding your stupid lies from your poor wife, and I’m tired of listening to you promise me things you’re never going to really do. I’m tired of trying to repair your broken-ass relationships, and getting talked about more, and used more in the process. I’m tired of pretending like you haven’t crushed me. I’m also tired of pretending like I’m not REALLY PISSED OFF at your lack of human function, or ability. I’m tired of it.

Know this. I don’t blame you. Not one bit. You’re just doing what you know how to do. Doing what you were taught by such quality parents. They must’ve really taught you how to treat friends….tell them just what they want to hear, take advantage of them. Put your relationships and their feelings on the line so you can get whatever you need. Making those empty promises, and digging deeper holes full of your lies. I’ll never pretend to understand why, or how you’d choose to do these things to me…..but I don’t blame you.

I blame me. I blame myself for letting my guard down, and my walls down to let you in. I blame me for over-working myself to the point of exhaustion, to better your offspring. I blame myself for thinking the things you fed me through email, chat, and the phone were true. I blame myself for not taking better care of myself to, maybe, avoid all of this jack-off sickness myself. I blame myself for allowing you to walk on me. I blame myself for laying down and taking it. I blame myself for not squishing your face with my fist with every asinine accusation. *Shrugs* All. My. Fault.

And that’s okay, too, because I’m done today. I’m done giving a shit about what you’re up to, and wondering if you do what you do, more frequently than you admit…. I’m done worrying about their future, when it doesn’t seem to be a focus of yours. I’m done putting my introverted-ass self out there to attempt a relationship, when I know damn well what’s coming back at me. I know you, and today I’m done. I really hope that your future doesn’t suck as much as your present, and I appreciate the future stories in my novels you’ve given me.

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