Almost (In)Famous

Somebody hates me.

For those of you out there who immediately thought, "Well now, 'hate' is a strong word, isn't it?" let me be clear: this person hates me. She hates the fact that I draw breath, she's sorry she ever met me, she hates my thoughts and how I express them, she hates that I continue to work and play and laugh.

I strongly suspect that she even hates my cat.

How do I know that she hates me?

She blogged about it.

Multiple times.

Apparently, she forgot that, pre-hatred, she had sent me the link to her blog. So, lucky me, I get to see how much I suck at life posted for all of the interwebs to read.

This is what it's like when someone writes entire blog entries about how awful you are:

1. It's sort of like watching bad reality TV. You know you don't want to watch it. You know that by watching it, you're perpetuating it. But you HAVE to watch it, just because you have to see what comes next.

2. I'm not famous, but I think "This is what it's like to be written about in a tabloid" -- because what is being written? Not quite true. However, her readers who don't know me have NO way of knowing that, so their perception is that I'm this completely horrid person who laughs at the misfortune of others, kicks puppies, and generally steals candy from babies. Orphaned babies. Orphaned babies who have cherubic smiles and dispositions.

I could have commented on any number of her blog posts, but I haven't. Why? Because I think she needs her anger. There's something missing in her life, and hating me is filling that void. As such, nothing I could say -- no comment I could make, and honestly, no act I could perform -- will convince her that I'm not who or what she thinks I am. She needs someone to hate. I'm okay with it being me, I think, if doing so in some way makes the rest of her life a little happier (albeit in a kind of weird way).

Also, she's done me a favour and made me realize the kind of person I don't want to be. I don't want to be trashing someone on my blog, or focusing my life and words on how much I hate someone. If there is a place for that -- and perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, there is -- it doesn't have to be THIS place.  This place is for other things.

Maybe someday I can be known for that instead.