Wednesday afternoon.

My hunt for an apartment is turning up nothing but shit so far.

Today I went to look at an Airbnb listing and was denied the wifi needed to use WhatsApp to call the landlord down by the front desk staff. I ended up wandering over to a deli nearby, where the guy behind the counter told me to stay as far away from that building as possible. He said there is no shortage of Airbnb tenants who come to the deli complaining about the amount of cockroaches living in the various apartments. He gave me a list of other places to check out instead. Needless to say, I called a taxi and left without touring the place.

Now I am back here, trying to make a decision about what to do and where to go. What am I doing with my life? This trip just keeps leading me to dead end after dead end. It feels like there is no shortage of catfish out here in the SEA. From TEFL to yoga to boyfriends to housing. Every month, it’s something new. I’m starting to lose my taste for it.

I thought I would like being a “digital nomad,” but it turns out it’s just a more stressful way to be homeless and unemployed. Instagram makes it look pretty good on the surface, but it’s becoming very clear that it’s just not for me. I’m over the novelty, the constant concern about where I’m going to live next, issues with visas, unclean apartments, and ridiculous people.

Honestly, this trip has sucked. It wasn’t even supposed to be a trip. I was in a relationship that was supposed to be moving towards marriage, I was supposed to stay at one job for a year, and I was supposed to live in one city for said year. Instead, my boyfriend dumped me in Dubai, my job turned out to be a scam, and the city I chose was more complicated than I thought.

Now I’m just out here adrift, unsure of where I’m going next or what I’m even doing. I have no support system. I appear to be completely incapable of making any kind of significant, long-term connection with anyone, whether it be for friendship, romance, or career purposes. I have no real career prospects. My blog is a failure. My life is a failure.

All I have to my name is a ridiculous story about that time the psychotic, unhinged owner of a bar had me arrested because he didn’t like the stupid book I wrote about the stupid people at his stupid bar in a stupid little town in the stupid fucking shithole state of South Dakota that nobody actually cares about. And the worst part is, I still have to dream about the psychopath in question every single night. Why? I don’t know. Because apparently the whole episode just compounded all of the trauma I already had from my past experiences with abuse, rape, and assault, some of which was committed by his asshole friends who tried to destroy my future and reputation because they can’t take any kind of real responsibility for their shitty actions.

Go me.

So here I am on the other side of the world trying to escape from all of it and start over with a brand new life and nothing. I just keep getting served up the same old pile of shit. Love that for me.

Oh right, I forgot. Silly me. I’m ~*JuSt PlAyInG tHe ViCtIm*~.

Say the same assholes who try to cover up all the shit they did to fuck with me. And you wonder why I ~*NeVeR LiStEn*~ to you. What are you saying that is so valuable again? Oh, that’s right, nothing. You’re just spewing out garbage in order to make me feel unseen, unheard, and totally invalidated so that I will shut up and go away and stop writing forever.

Right.

Yes, I’m totally “playing the victim” by writing openly and honestly about my life experiences. I should just hold them all inside of me and never show emotion and pretend to be superior to everyone just like you. As if you don’t come off as a total and completely selfish, out-of-touch asshole with zero empathy whatsoever.

Here’s my question: Why do you think being that type of person is admirable? Why do you want to be a sociopath with no feelings or empathy for others? Why do you see true, deep expressions of pain in the soul and genuine love towards others as a weakness? What is wrong with you?

I’d rather not be like that, personally. I’m sorry you think it’s a weakness, but I don’t. My ability to love others gives me strength. It brings me hope during dark times like this. My desire to use my pain for a purpose is what gets me out of bed in the morning. So, yeah, thanks but no thanks for your useless feedback. Please keep your fake platitudes and toxic positivity to yourself. Plzkthx, bye.

I’m just here to tell you… I am not playing the victim. I have spent the last ten years working diligently on becoming the type of person that I have always dreamed of being in spite of all the terrible people who hurt me and all of the terrible, ridiculous bullshit I’ve been through. You know what I’ve been doing this whole time that you’ve been dragging my name through the fucking mud? Let me make a list for you:

1. I’ve traveled to 11 countries (7 of which were in the last year and a half), 34 US States, and 38 Indian Reservations. Do you ever go the Rez just for funsies? Of course you don’t. Why would someone like you do that? I bet you think Native Americans are “just playing the victim” too, right?
2. I started practicing my French and Spanish again, which lead me to learn Portuguese just for funsies. I also started learning Hindi and Chinese, both of which use a completely different alphabet. At one point, I was practicing all of these in rotation at the same time. Can you do that with that little, tiny, pea brain of yours? Uh, yeah, I didn’t think so.
3. I started this blog, wrote three short story collections, kept a daily diary documenting all of this, attended the Paris Writing Workshop, won a scholarship to attend the Desert Nights, Rising Stars Writing Conference (albeit online), and attended AWP twice (also online). All while some anonymous stalker asshole online was threatening to destroy my life with ~*ScReEnShOtS*~ and a crazy bar owner was having me arrested because he doesn’t respect my First Amendment right to Freedom of Speech.
4. I became a yoga teacher. I’ve now completed two different 200hr Yoga Teacher Training courses, both of which were in foreign countries. One of those was India, which most people are too scared to even consider setting foot in. Yet, there I was, showering with a bucket and wandering around barefoot with the cows. Namaste, motherfucker.
5. I tried every single crazyass therapy I could find to help me deal with all of the trauma that has compounded in my body after a lifetime of abuse. I know that it’s inconvenient for you to admit the truth, but yes, your friend did rape me, and your other friend did assault me. And you are the scumbag who tried to cover it all up by accusing me of being “crazy.” Oh, and all of that happened AFTER I survived the Troubled Teen Industry and two abusive relationships in my youth. So weird, it’s like all these things are actually connected through the cycle of trauma that I can’t escape from no matter how hard I try!
6. I got a job in Hong Kong, traveled across the world for it, had to leave because it was insane, and now I’m on my third country since leaving that dumpster fire shitshow behind.

So yeah, so much for your theory that I’m “playing the victim.” What the fuck does that even mean? Seriously. Tell me, after reading all of this, that I somehow believe myself to be a victim of life just because I am trying to sort out my fucked up feelings about my life and family and relationships after my father died? Because I’m mad that I can’t find an apartment that isn’t infested with ants or cockroaches or mold or god knows what else?

Oh, and I bet you think I’m playing the victim because I’m struggling with my career path because I’m neurodivergent and these kinds of things don’t come naturally to me. You know what does come naturally to me? Memorizing maps of the world from various points in history. Learning new languages. Discovering new facts about the history of the places I travel to. Keeping up with current events while you stick your head in the sand and hide in your little bubble like the coward you are.

So yeah, you can say whatever you want to say to and about me and my “choices” and my so-called “attitude” towards life. Here’s my question: When was the last time you actually listened to ME before spewing out your tired one-liners you stole from the self-help aisle?

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

So why don’t stop flapping your fucking trap and take your copy of Eat, Pray, Love and shove it up your fucking ass?

Bye, Felicia!