Ahhh… la vie. Typical South Dakota bullshit. There I was, sitting on the patio, looking at memes on my iPad, minding my own business, and I get arrested because some rich white male who has never had any problems in life feels “threatened” by my presence. Okay, whatever. Go arrest a meth dealer, human trafficker, or corrupt government official instead. Actually do something to change your state for the better instead of harassing a peaceful protestor.
Then again, why do that when you can live off your white privilege and make up crazy shit about people you know nothing about? Okay. Whatever. I guess people around here literally have nothing better to do with their time, so what else can you expect? Forget the past, they say! It doesn’t matter now! Only, it does. Everything you said and did seven years ago will be used against you FOREVER because this is a small town in the middle of nowhere where the locals literally have nothing better to do.
Right now all I’m sitting here thinking is, “I feel sorry for you. I really do. I feel sorry that you can’t get out of your small town world and understand I am just a writer who is writing a story. I’m sorry you, as a rich white male who has never experienced any kind of oppression, legitimately feels the need to harass someone who fell in love with your bar and the characters within. I’m sorry you can’t understand that some people like those stories. I’m sorry you can’t understand that writers write about their lives. I’m sorry. I really am. That’s why I love you, I forgive you, and I will always be grateful to you.”
It’s true. I realize now my anger was just part of my grieving process. I am not angry at them anymore. I forgive them. I love them. I feel sorry for them. I really do. I feel so sorry for these poor rich white males who have never faced oppression in their lives because they honestly believe that I am “ruining their lives” by writing stories that everyone except the locals in Verm actually read. I’m sorry that you are literally mentally incapable of understanding Google Analytics. According to my stats, I get one or two readers from Verm per week at this point. The rest come from DC (my hometown), Cleveland+, New York, LA, London, Boston, Chicago, Minneapolis, and yes, even Sioux Falls once in awhile.
As for the most-clicked links on my blog? That’s right! You guessed it! It’s still The Volante, Fanfiction.net, and the novel I wrote in high school. Andrew remains the LEAST clicked, with Bloody Mary’s trailing closely behind. According to Google Analytics, no one actually cares about any of the dumb shit I’ve written in the last few years. As far as most of my readership is concerned, most of “BetseyHorton.com” is and always will be a literal pile of crap.
That’s right! It’s official! No one living in Verm actually cares about your dumbass bullshit! Or mine, for that matter. The only reason anyone with USD stamped on their diploma is still reading this bullshit is because of ME. ME. BETSEY HORTON, WRITER EXTRAORDINAIRE. MY VIEW ON LIFE. MY STYLE OF WRITING. ALL THINGS I HAVE WRITTEN, PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. These people know me. They understand me. They know I’m better than this dumb shit. They just keep clicking because they’re waiting for more.
I feel sorry for you people. I really do. I feel sorry for most of South Dakota. I simply can’t imagine growing up in the middle of fucking nowhere with a million churches within a block, but no libraries for miles and miles and miles away. I can’t understand thinking of Verm as a “big place with lots of opportunities.” I can’t understand this mindset at all. I’m sorry you never grew up with diversity or exposure to other cultures. I’m sorry the only monument you ever had to look at was Mount Rushmore and that you truly grew up believing Native Americans were “the bad guys,” because you were brainwashed by racism. I’m sorry you don’t travel or try to understand things from an outsider’s point of view. I’m sorry you don’t understand that other cultures, languages, and people exist outside of Rich White Privileged Male Fairytale Land.
I’m sorry you can’t understand that I am a writer who is inspired by this place and these characters. I’m sorry you think that me setting up a lawn chair so I can look at memes on my iPad is a direct threat to your impenetrable existence as a rich while male who has everything handed to him on a silver platter. I am sorry that I am *such a threat* to you.
I’m sorry. I really am. And by that I mean, I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for your desperate attempts to appear “Woke” while activily discriminating against any “outsiders” you may encounter. I’m sorry you hate POC, LGBTQ, and women who aren’t afraid to speak their minds. I’m sorry you try so hard to pretend you are a welcoming, open-minded, diverse community for the sake of social media appearances, I’m sorry your community literally does nothing to actually back those statements up. I’m sorry you don’t try to get to know people or understand their point of view.
Most of all, I’m sorry you hate women. I’m sorry you believe that any woman who disagrees with you or calls you out on your bullshit is “crazy.” I’m sorry you think women with opinions are evil. I’m sorry you are so deeply misogynist that you honestly believe all women are liars and whores who only exist to serve you and push up your ego.
Here’s the funny part: no one is actually going to this bar anymore. Every time I walk by, it’s empty. If there are people there, it’s only the people who used to work there. No one cares about their “tradition.” No one cares about their “club.” That bar has been failing for years and it has absolutely god damn nothing to do with me. It’s all about these rich white males who have never been oppressed wanting their so-called “privacy.”
I’m sorry you think I am evil. I’m sorry you truly believe, as rich white males who have never experienced any hardship in life, that a beautiful young woman writing in her notebook is a threat to your existence.
I feel so sorry for you. I really do.
I love you. I forgive you. Thank you. You inspire me. I’m grateful for you every day.
Thank you again for everything you have inspired me to create. I’m sorry you insist on your insane, deluded, delusional, crazy, false version of reality that you made up in your head. I guess that’s just what people do out here.
I’m sorry I wasted all this time thinking I had a real story to tell out here. It turns out the only story to tell is: “This place is a nightmare. That’s why everyone leaves. Get out while you can. It’s not worth it to stay and try to convince these clearly insane people what reality really is.”
Ahh… Le Sigh. And here people wonder why I have an Island of Lost Guys. How else could I possibly keep track of all the utterly insane bullies in my life? Sigh, again.
And that’s why I’m better than 90% of the people I’ve met in South Dakota. Because I love you, I forgive you, I am grateful to you for inspiring me, and none of you fucking care. All you want is your small town drama because you literally have nothing better to do. You literally believe a woman with opinions writing in her notebook is a threat to you because you’ve never been told FUCK YOU in your entire life.
I feel so sorry for you people. I really do. Guess I’ll go to bed with the knowledge that I am better than any of you assholes will ever be. Can’t say I’ll be deprived of sleep tonight.
And in the morning? Writing, of course. Always writing. Writing, writing, writing, writing. Why? Because that’s what I fucking do. I’m sorry you are not educated enough to understand that. I’ll keep doing it anyway. I hope you get really, really, really pissed off because you didn’t like what I said and call the police on me because the First Amendment is so offensive to a bunch of fucking Nazis like you. Be who you are. I guess that’s all you’re meant to be…