I’m the kind of person that composes my opinion of another person without getting to know them. Well, not all the time. But I was reading through a few of the blogs that friends post on certain social media sites, and realized that I was choosing not to read certain blogs because of my opinions of the people who wrote them. There was one blog in particular. The author went to college with me. This dorm-mate of mine was dark-haired, had sparkling eyes and a great figure. She was reserved, yet hilarious when I heard her open up around others. We ate lunch with the same people, but we never really spoke to one another. I figured it was because, in my oh-so narrow-minded brain, she knew that she was gorgeous, and therefore didn’t want to socialize me — I was the girl who never did her hair, was lousy at applying makeup, and who was, frankly, an outright awkward nerd. And I decided it must be those particular things that must’ve divided us.
After graduation, we remained “friends” on Facebook, which is where she recently began posting links to her blog. I read it a few times, and really enjoyed it, in spite of my realization that she wrote the way I wished I could. She expressed a deep faith, a stunning sense of humor, and she had a heart that led her to write about charities and other good causes. She was even a consistent blogger! And I found myself suddenly feeling very small and uninspired when it came to writing on my own blog. She was the kind of person I still, after college, wished I could be, who I knew I wasn’t, and that… made me really not want to read her blog.
Stupid, I know. But there’s more.
I was in the process of skipping her blog again today, when I decided I’d click on it. Why the heck not? I needed to see what she had wittily posted about today… And as I read down the main page, I read her words about how she had been struggling with a feeling of low self-worth. She wrote about words people had said to her that caused her to doubt herself and her value. And this was not only recently, but through her entire growing up and even during college – when I’d wished I could’ve been her.
Well. You know those moments when you feel like someone up and smacked you in the back of the head? (Devoted NCIS fans refer to this as a well-deserved “Gibbs-Slap.”) And you know that you deserved it because you made a mistake that only a fool would. Or maybe you were just an envious, insecure human being, who didn’t really know the whole story, but pretended like she did and made up an entire scenario…
I may be a writer, but may the fiction I come up with in the future just stay on the page, not in my life.