(just like the other 172,063 others who like this word porn)
“You’re like an onion”, The Hero said the other day as we were talking about ourselves.
“You mean I stink?”, I replied.
He gave up. When we’re both quoting an animated movie from 15 years ago, we know we need a break. He’s right, though. I am multi-layered and complex. I’m the mysterious black magic woman Santana warned you about.
Look, here’s some word porn to prove how different I am…
If someone thinks I’m as mysterious as all that, I’d never argue with them. Why should I? It’s like disputing a good horoscope.
How about this one? Look how sensitive I am:
How profound. It absolves me of complete responsiblity for killing a relationship. I don’t just like it. I love it. I’m so sensitive I should have a special allowance for passive aggressive bleepiness.
You can sometimes couple this stuff with some pseudo-scientific psycho-mumbo-jumbo.
Again, I’m so special and sensitive, see? If I have an unhealthy approach to conflict it’s only because it’s in-built and I’m the rarest of the rare personality types.
It doesn’t matter that the framework is widely debunked and unreliable.
By God I am speshul. Word porn tells me so.
My zodiac sign tells me so
Being a woman is an automatic ticket.
Being a mom makes me super duper, duper special
I don’t know if any generation has ever endured this level of onslaught of motivation and reassurances of being special. I’m exhausted. I don’t want to be special. I don’t need to be reassured how amazing I am. Firstly, being unique means nothing
Secondly, everyone and everything can’t be special. Here’s the dictionary meaning of special:
distinguished by some unusual quality; especially : being in some way superior
Special is literally going the way of literally. It’s getting to the point where the word has no meaning anymore