Since then a few ‘girls’ have said some really bad things about me. Mainly in taking a stab at me as a writer. In fact for all my author friends it may even be really laughable: I was called a whore for what my characters do in my stories.
Oddity in, and of itself since characters are creations, and figments of the imagination of the writer who created them. They do not exist, and they are not the author either. In fact a good majority of women writers would never contemplate doing the things their heroines do. This is the entire point of writing a story. It’s an escape into a different world for a momentary reprieve.
Did it bother me being called this in reference to my art?
Not in the ways that most people assumed, but yes it did. It bothered me to see grown women behaving so rashly because they were grasping at straws to justify being rude to me.
Yet, what bothers me the most is in retrospect what I learned about this other person I lost as a friend. This person so happens to be aspiring to become an author too, and very easily allowed her new group of friends to ridicule many other writer friends of hers. Or those who had been at least.
I’m very disappointed in her. I really am, but more so now that I am beginning to think every word she said, every thing she ever lead me to believe, every moment, every memory, and everything I did for her were in vain. All an elaborate scheme to use me. I’ll never not see it this way now.
The cut is made though, but everyone has to realize karma will return this favor, and likely threefold. For me it’s not a question of whether I was lied to, and betrayed instead it is a question of why didn’t I see it sooner?
Watch your inner circle, my friends. It will always be the person you least expect who shows what a viper they are.
Et tu Brutus?