I hate haters.
I hate feeling apprehensive about other people’s resentment.
I hate feeling like I can’t wear new clothes or have a manicure without hearing someone say, “Must be nice. I wish I could afford new clothes and a manicure.”
I hate feeling like I can’t share good news about my social life or my career without someone saying, “Must be nice. I wish I was going out tonight. I wish I had a book deal.”
I hate feeling like the only feelings I can share with certain people are the bitchy ones – the whiny fucking complaints – because that’s the only thing these people are gonna share with me and misery loves company.
I’m not talking about garden-variety envy and jealousy. I’m talking about straight-up resentment – the bad vibes that emanate from people who actively think negative thoughts about me because I have things they don’t have. Things that they’ve decided I don’t deserve.
The people who really know me know how hard I work and what kinds of bullshit I have to overcome. If you don’t know me well enough to hear me whine about those things, just be glad. But don’t assume that the stuff I have came to me by magic, or because I’m just lucky.
You want the things I have? Get off your ass and go get them. Work harder.
I want a better place to live, but I can’t afford it. So do I walk around telling people with four-bedroom houses, “Must be nice“? No. I save my money. I make a plan. I work hard.
I want a nice boyfriend. I want a minivan. I want a perfect body, a winning lottery ticket, and fame and fortune. Do you think I spend my time calling up people who have those things and simpering, “Must be nice“?
You know what, haters? I can’t change you. All I can do is stop letting you upset me, I guess. When I can’t avoid you altogether, I mean.
Have nice lives, crybabies. Who knows? Maybe all that whining and resentment will actually get you somewhere some day. But, just to be on the safe side, I’m gonna stick with the hard work instead.
