My name is Jess.
And I am a blog hate reader.
Not of all blogs, or even many blogs. Just one. One lonely little blog that I read constantly, and analyse to death.
One blog, by one writer, who really ticks me off. She annoys me no end, more than any other person or blogger I’ve ever met.
Some days, I don’t mind what she writes. Some days I find her mildly assuming, or somewhat comforting. But most days, she just pushes all my buttons. I mean really, who does she think she is?
She bangs on about her parenting practices like she is the best mother in world, when I bet, if I met her kids (and her), I could prove this wrong in about 20 seconds flat.
She talks about blogging like she knows stuff, when really she is no expert at all. It’s just common sense stuff that most people could pick up if they took the time.
She writes about herself as if she is God’s gift to the world. I mean really, do we need to hear about how wonderful she thinks her life is? Or how she’s certain that good things are in store for her? She is just so full of herself!
And then there is the religion; don’t get me started on that. For someone who calls herself a Christian, she seems pretty imperfect to me. She can be rude, and cold and whilst she blames it on insecurities, let’s face it, the truth is, she is not perfect. So far from it, it’s not funny.
She wants to inspire people!
Really? Do we need another inspirational blog? Do we need to hear another average mum, trying to encourage us to live our best life whilst she wraps her self in the mundane? Is it really necessary?
What a waste of internet space.
What a pointless discourse.
What a ridiculous human being.
And yet, despite all that, I can’t help but read her every word.
Because I write her every word.
I am my biggest troll and my own worst enemy. I don’t need anyone else to point out my faults, or to criticise me, because I’m already aware of where I stuff up. Of how I’m just trying to be better, and how often I’m failing that.
So I don’t need a troll. I don’t need scathing twitter comments, or facebook rudeness. I don’t need people to remind me of how imperfect I am.
I already know it.
I already own it.
And I will keep on fighting myself and my imperfections, until one day, I can hopefully break free of them, and myself.
And until then?
I’ll just keep writing.