I’ve had a realization in the last few days about just how intensely jealous a lot of my “haters” actually are… And I mean that quite objectively.
The “haters” I accidentally gathered with my first popular and well-loved account on Instagram, that is. I have a new public and intentionally low-key account on Instagram and while I do share perfume it’s not my focus. But anyway, I’m sure some genuinely jealous person somewhere still wants to paint what eventually happened with my first account (I deleted it out of hurt, frustration and a concern for my safety) as a scenario of me either being “crazy” and/or “lying” or they desperately cling to any other scrap of nonsense they can conjure to make themselves feel superior. And you’d think they would have lost interest by now, but the jealousy was serious and very sincere I guess. *rolling eyes* It lingered. And lingered. …It lingers.
Actually though, 99% of the insults they tried to fling at me (and they still do) never did stick. My “haters” tend to project a bit too much of their own issues onto other people to truly figure out any real insults that “work”. They make up some “voodoo doll” version of me in their heads who doesn’t exist and then insult that person.
I took down almost any post on this blog people could find obviously unsympathetic to their “hate”. And, if a person calls what I wrote in those posts crazy now they’re just taking a cheap (and dishonest) shot. (Someone truly insane will start plotting to hack this blog now.)
Maybe in truth though it all just went over their heads? Perhaps they don’t understand how people could figure things about themselves out with proper historical documentation. They don’t understand what historical documentation even is? (probably) Or…they don’t understand or want to understand class. Wealth? Maybe they don’t want to understand anything in a real way because they’re too stubbornly jealous? Too self-righteous? *shrug* Or maybe they did understand my original frustration years ago (and etc.) but they didn’t feel like being sorry for being obnoxious (and jealous and destructive) and decided to double-down and attack instead. They were too embarrassed to feel bad for being so genuinely offensive. So vain and rude. So crass. Such a bully.
Thing is, unfortunately none of that makes me crazy kiddos. Instead it makes my “haters” mostly self-promoting assholes who don’t want someone to be “better than them”. And that makes them the one with the problem. Again, their egotistical anger and bullying (openly and passively) in the fragrance community online is the reason I lost my temper and started sharing things that I knew would make people feel insecure. I wanted to make them so upset they just blew up and went away. (Another reason they may linger, ironically.) …I’ve explained this all many times. I’ve said that I got sick of trying to be nice and bite my tongue when people were emotionally and psychologically abusive. …I was exasperated by the fact that people felt entitled to harass me everyday in their delusional zero-sum game. And if being more honest than is socially acceptable and not trying to coddle people’s egos is crazy then count me in?
Hmm. Will some “hater” start a forced (power-trip) private conversation to tell me about their child’s constipation and ask for advice about loosening their bowel movements? Will they then share something gross and too personal about their genitalia (without my encouragement of course)? Maybe. I mean, that actually happened. That was seemingly one “hater’s” idea of retribution. They decided to be “honest” too I guess. *rolling eyes* Well, that was their method until they cooked yet another narcissistic scheme up.
…But how about, since my “haters” keep reading, I just make it clear: I don’t take you seriously. You may have “loved” me once *rolling eyes* but in truth it was a farce. Wasn’t it? A temporary lull before they all found something too uncomfortable for their egos and felt the need to attack? “I think you’re really cool.” “I love you!” they’d say for a few months before feeling too angsty.