By kkmmcc on Kanye West, "Bound 2"
so he is definitely just trolling everyone at this point, right? like, this can't be real?
I can't shake the feeling that both the song and the video are intentionally awful
@Alli525 Absolutely, but a valuable part of the healing process (in my experience) is having people tell you you're being an asshole, and (re-)learning to regulate your behaviour around other human beings.
Auuughhhh I have read all of the comments and feel gross
WOW, feelings about the piece and the writer totally aside, @S. Elizabeth represents everything that is wrong with the internet and, increasingly, the Hairpin. Seriously girl. Check yourself.
@AEB: A few different issues going on with the detractors. Some want to discredit everything you say simply because you come from a middle class family while they didn't. Well that's not a valid criticism. They do not have a patent on suffering, on PTSD, on literary talent, or anything else. You have a right to speak as much as anybody. It doesn't seem to me you are begging for symapathy. Others seem miffed because their own work was rejected by Hairpin... that's just petty beyond belief: green-eyed monster. I wouldn't dignify these people with a response.
@mirah God, thank you for this. I was disheartened by the amount of judgment and anger in the comments. I'm a writer who graduated in '09 and hasn't had half of the opportunities the author had, but after reading this I can see that as a gift in many ways.
No problem. I am also a writer, albeit in a different capacity than you, and I think the hallmark of a good writer is the ability to see the possible validity of experiences other than your own.
@mirah Thanks, and very much.
@S. Elizabeth @Hellion of Troy I've never before done this, address the commenters critiquing my work, but as a person, and most especially as a woman, I've got to be honest with you guys that this was incredibly hurtful and hard to read. I say that not because I disagree with certain expressions addressed here--indeed, I am very aware of the very-fucked nature of the decisions that I've made--but as a person, I'm beside myself that anyone (much less so many) would take to personally attacking another person for making decisions they themselves would't make. Since when did it become so wildly shameful to present oneself as an evolving, learning person? As a person who--yes--fucks up, and royally? And who is unafraid to state as much, or occupy the space in which those decisions were made?
In its purest form, an essay is a reflection of the self, but it is not a whole self, and it has never been--nor should it be, in my opinion--a manifesto or instructional set of advice on how the writer believes one ought to live, or even how she herself ought to live. Not every essay is the final word--or even close to the final word--on what one has to say about love and shame and loneliness and longing and, for that matter, youth. Why do we as readers always assume that the person essaying their experience will forever be that person, will remain in the young and flawed period in which they wrote about? Simply because I wrote from the perspective of the twenty-three year old self now as a twenty-six year old doesn't mean that I will forever occupy that mindset.
But what hurts most of all is not the intellectual debate that this essay has inevitably spawned--in fact, it really was my hope from the start, along with conversing with others who can relate (a good many of you, it turns out)--but to be the target for such vitriolic hate, such out-and-out self-righteousness. This is an essay about decisions made and later regretted, and while no, it's not directly about what my friend did, who the fuck are you to tell me what's an appropriate response to grief? To fear? To overwhelming and crushing sadness? To dedicate vast paragraphs--or, as you suggested, @S. Elizabeth, restructure the essay to carefully place it as a narrative arc--felt wrong to me, because it's not the forefront of this essay. It's not the forefront of my story. But you have absolutely no idea who I am or the impact it had or the impact it continues to have on me as I was the last person before his victim to see my friend that night. It has no place, and yet it now feels worth saying, that I wrote him for three years on a monthly basis, that I was twice-diagnosed (by different doctors a year and a half apart) with severe PTSD, that I even drove to his maximum security prison because I didn't know what else, frankly, to do except confront him once and for all. My essay is not about that, and I don't want it to be, and while I'm sorry for your loss, you have no fucking clue--none whatsoever--and should show a little respect and compassion to evidence as much.
Frankly, who the FUCK are you?
As a woman, I'm absolutely shocked and disheartened by the personal level of things said here, and I'm not certain what more you want me to say. That I feel like absolute garbage, embarrassed and very guilty for some of the decisions I have made? Yes. But for me, the value of the personal essay is its capacity as a tool for self-examination, and as one who's never attacked anyone in such a personal and detailed way, I'd advise you to give it a try.