It's Not Pretty to Be Real

I should put this in my journal so that no one may read it till I pass away. Rather, I'm making it available to the Journal community.

Why? Because, unless they are a trust fund baby, everyone in a first-world country has to deal with "business, careers, and the workplace," which is what the Journal community is all about. Therefore, even if I don't come across well in this account, I think it's virtually improper to keep my experience to myself.

*Ahem*

Nothing goes here.

Zara is my name, and I'm a kind child. Yes, exactly. I have a great deal of empathy and usually want better for others than they would ever dare to want for themselves. I want humankind to prosper. More than anything, I want that. I want to succeed for myself, and I want everyone to succeed so that we can all work together to make the world a better place for coming generations. Every creative person wants that, don't they? Isn't that why we make things? To offer ourselves as an offering? I'm not sure; perhaps some people make things to get attention when they're lonely. However, I wouldn't classify that as creative. Being creative and being productive are two very different things.

In any case, my concern for others is not the issue. It's my method of expressing it.

I'm making a lot of effort to improve. Did you know that I'm facing challenges at work? This may sound idealistic, but I firmly believe that once we actively pursue something—start a quest, if you will—we encounter every obstacle we require to advance. I'm attempting to improve my verbal communication skills in a diplomatic manner. In my own words? No. Above all, writers need to be honest. Authors have little control over how their work is interpreted, felt, or responded to by others. However, I must speak politely to others in my interpersonal ties. I am aware of this.

What really happens is that I suppress everything because I'm afraid of offending anyone. Without any sharp edges, I'm not sure how to tell the truth. The truth is painful. It wouldn't have such transforming power otherwise. I damage myself when I hide these facts from myself while grinning subtly and hiding my emotions. The mind-body link is so strong that when I see someone acting badly, I feel sick to my stomach, yet I choose not to confront them about it.

The narrative would be lengthy if I told it in its entirety. I could cut a decent 10,000 words down to 7,000 and send them to literary print magazines. But that's a lot of scrolling. The online version is available here:

After a brief spell of unemployment, I started a new "day job" last summer—well, excluding the pitiful income I receive from my semi-professional writing. In addition, I was making myself take a break from writing. In nine months, I hope to make the switch to full-time professional writing, blah blah blah. The job's conditions included a one-year contract with the potential for extension, thirty hours a week, and three times my rent so that I could write without worrying about money. Even though it's not my life's work, I enjoy the job and am naturally good at it. To put it another way, it was flawless.

Until it wasn't.

because my female coworker developed a platonic obsession with me. Her desire was to be best friends. I merely wanted to be acquainted at work.

I frequently experience this type of stuff at work. Naturally, I will be pleasant, amiable, and engaging. We should get along if we spend most of our waking hours together, don't we? I'm also sympathetic, as I mentioned. People are able to sense that. They are aware of my kindness. In order to feel supported by me, they want to be near me. But I don't want to put in a lot of emotional work for someone I don't have a love relationship with. Outside of work, I have such a calm, drama-free existence.I don't wish to take the troubles of others home with me. I never committed to that burden, and I'm not compensated for it. To ensure that they can return the favor, I only want friends who have undergone the same degree of introspection that I have. Friends who fill their cups first are the ones I desire.

Isn't that just? I have the right to acquaintance-zone individuals I'm not attracted to, just as I have the right to friend-zone people I'm not attracted to sexually. I'm not teasing these ladies by being pleasant but not friends, just as I'm not "leading a man on" by being friendly to him when we have to interact on a daily basis. They behave as though I've guided them. Acting offended, they see it as a rejection.

Guess what, though? Life involves rejection. You will be rejected a lot before you acquire what you want if you want it badly enough. As the children say, rejection is God's way of protecting us, and everything isn't for us.

The most hilarious thing about this is that it doesn't only occur at work. No, I experienced that in a writing community that I was also a part of. When I offered more support to some of the group members than I did to others, several of the ladies were enraged with me. I don't lie, but I didn't trust their job. Since there were so many writerly errors, I didn't want to devalue their work or their sense of value by pointing them out. Furthermore, they were not the kind of individuals who would be appreciative of even the most helpful critique.No. They refuse to fill their own cup and seek uncritical acclaim and adulation for their mediocrity. They embarked on a witch hunt for me when I sincerely applauded other people's work but not theirs. Since they were unable to approach me, they attempted to destroy me.

But let's get back to what I work at. After attempting to get me fired (which backfired on her), the coworker departed because she was so irritated by my personal limits. I never wish harm on people because of this. That hatred doesn't belong in my heart. Although I hope that everyone else will choose to be happy, I am unable to make that decision for them. From a distance, I send them my best wishes. This woman disappeared because she so desperately wanted me gone.

It becomes more erratic.

The coworker's successor is carrying out the same task in a different manner. She isn't attempting to fire me. She wants to keep me back and make me stay. She's a complete disaster; therefore, she's making a lot of effort to become friends with me, which I don't want. As I transform into the woman I want to be, this is a transitory position for me. Staying stagnant is not what I want. Although I am grateful for my current nice life, I still want to leave lots of space for more.

It's not a pleasant place to be, and I don't know how to politely tell her, "I think you need a lobotomy. Get away from me." I feel horrible because I can't tolerate her, but I also feel sorry for her because she is eager for my approval.

I continue to treat her with child gloves, and she continues to adore that treatment, which means she continues to seek me. Texting me after work about topics that aren’t job-related—you wouldn’t believe the gushing pages this woman has given me. It's really unpleasant.

I believe that if I succeed in my job, this won't be an issue. At last, I will be surrounded by people who welcome rejection. Everybody in the entertainment and arts industries has a rejection kink. Rejections validate how well something is being gatekept, and they like the rush of getting past the gatekeepers. Although I wouldn't describe myself as a social climber, I do plan to become much more gregarious once I reach the heights I'm aiming for. That doesn't change the fact that I now have adult ladies who are unable to stop fangirling me in an explosive way. I'm unsure of what to do since I feel violated.

I wish I had the ability to help these women get over their problems. I wish I could share with them what I found to be effective. But I can't. I don't want to make their wounds worse, and it would be too savage.

I tell it all in my stories. When it comes to the printed word, people have options. Whether or not people agree with the message, they agree to receive it when they decide to read it. I show rather than reveal the harsh realities in my stories, and people agree to see.

Since once something is spoken out loud, it cannot be ignored, and I doubt many people would agree if they had the option, I want to learn how to phrase things in a way that provides others a choice in my daily life. It's difficult for me to express myself in a balanced way.

Right now, that's all I have to say about it. I'm working things out as I go along, so I don't have a clever ending. This is why there are more journal entries and incomplete thoughts than I usually post. Simply put, do any of us have a firm grasp on workplace relations? No, I suppose. Until we can do better, I assume we're all doing the best we can.

Maybe once they reach their height, everyone finds their tribe. Prom queens and elite athletes are examples of people who reach their zenith in high school. Others reach their zenith in college, maintaining sorority or fraternity sisters. We outcasts and weirdos are the ones who either succeed in our careers or remain completely out of place in society. That's me right now, a lone wolf that is committed to creating and being by myself. Maybe my rejection is a result of all the rejections I've had from being shunned by organizations. Freud said that fantasies develop throughout childhood, didn't he? In any event, I had to express myself in writing, which is the only way I can. Thank you for allowing me to share it anonymously. Thank you for making room for me, if you've read this far.