When I met ______ I used to have a pretty engaging "web-life/presence", enough for my liking. I blogged and wrote frequently. I was on a creative high, using the internet as a creative outlet, "maybe someone will read this, just to get it out there." Then one day I found a shitty comment on one of my random posts, conversing with another friend, essentially accusing me of being a reverse racist. I stopped everything. I didn't need to. It was solely his issue and he should've been minding his own fucking business anyway. But it scared me that something I wrote, something so frivolous as I did that day could cause pain.
Now I know that nothing I did or wrote was wrong at all, but in the wrong neurotic hands words can be misconstrued. I suppose I always knew this. The important thing that I have to take from this experience is that I am not responsible for what others PROJECT on to me and my writings. Good or bad, most anything can be twisted in a mind that is bent on gnawing on it's own insides. It's not my job to disengage and already far poisoned mind.
