So, I'm in love. With myself.
Duh. Who else?
When I stood and surveyed the shitshow that was left after the life I knew crumbled around me, I was the only one yelling "You've got this, girl. Give 'em hell!" All of the back handspringing bitches on my team for the smooth sailing portion of the ride were long gone, and looking back, I am happy that time revealed the character of my associates. And, as it turns out, they didn't make it until the waters started churning. I think that was for the best, because untrustworthy broads could have cost me my life at a few low spots, so it was definately smarter to navigate those sections on my own. It just so happens to take some of the sting out of the betrayal, as well.
Of all the times I've heard "I'm on your team", or "It's not just you anymore", I've come to find when the actual chips were down, there wasn't anyone who had said them to me still standing in the room with me. Instead, it was me alone wandering half of the US, driving through the darkest nights to wherever it didn't feel as though my breastplate had been struck with a 20 pound sledge.
So, today, after reaching the second million views on my advice column, I decided it was finally time for the backstory. I've been giving bits and pieces of the past a place to recount themselves, but the thread that holds them together in the shape of me has been absent. I sat down with the sole intent of sewing this nonsensical looking stack of stories into something legible, and I will do exactly that.
That's the foreward. Perhaps we'll meet again somewhere near the last chapter.
April
Ask A Bitchface
