Hey guys. I’m going to be real for a moment.
My name is Nicole. I am a mother, a journalist, and a voice.
In the short time I’ve been writing for Thought Catalog, I have quickly become one of the most provocative and salient voices in this community. My articles have been shared over one million times, and I’ve reached people in thousands of nations. Fan mail pours in by the hour, and while I can’t say that I’m not driven by ego, a part of me feels that I am here for a higher purpose. I don’t believe in God, but I believe in myself, and my ability to shape people’s lives. I believe in my ability to inspire.
Many people recognize that I am one of the greatest satirists that has ever picked up a pen, but even with my accolades and laurels, I am not perfect. None of us are perfect. I believe it was Sir Marcus Twain who wrote, “to err is human, but wit, is unerrable. Wit, however, is humanity’s window into the soul of perfection. Jokes elevate us to a realm of having a good time and being chill.” I don’t believe wiser words have ever been spoken, unless you have read any of my articles out loud.
Yet despite the inherent flawed nature of us all, people still find a need to pick apart my work. They take it upon themselves to comment on my articles, and write me, to tell me that they don’t like what I have done. Why is that? Is it jealousy? Is it insecurity? Is it an outlet for their own personal shame, that they can never be as talented and articulate as myself? Yes. Yes, it is all of those things.
Let’s be honest – I am the Jesus Christ of millennials, the Zoroaster of remembering the 90s, the Yahweh of introverts. Walt Disney. The bible had 40, maybe 50 characters in it. If it were rewritten today, is there any doubt in your mind that I would be every single one of the characters?
I am a creative genius, but I’m also a regular genius. I know you aren’t supposed to say that, so you shouldn’t. I however, should definitely say that, because it’s true, and my sole purpose in life is to speak truth. When I think about my audience – I don’t imagine you people reading my work. I imagine my peers. What would Einstein think about this? What would Rembrandt say? Picasso or the pyramids? They probably wouldn’t say anything. They’d just nod in silent appreciation. Especially the pyramids.
If you can’t see that, if you can’t accept the fact that I am the greatest writer alive, the problem doesn’t lie with me or my writing – the problem is you. I am a woman, and people want to see my words and construct a bullshit patriarchal narrative in which I am some wet-behind-the-ears, menstrually-enraged banshee with an inflated ego and some kind of mental problem. Guess what? I’m not, and you have a woman hating problem.
The whole system is set up to keep people like me down. Every genius thought I have is met with criticism. My local outreach program to breastfeed the homeless was shut down by the health department. Two years ago I came up with the idea for leather diapers for my students. “Nicole,” they said. “That’s retarded.” Yeah I know. That’s the point. Look around now. Everyone is wearing leather diapers. Every major fashion house was diaped up at Milan this year. Is it because I’m crazy? No. It’s because they see my giant tits and my perfect skin, and they hold me back. Michelle Obama. They wouldn’t let Kim continue making her own homemade porn movies because shes not as connected as Jews or oil men.
Don’t think for a second that I’m going to let these cyberbullies hold me back. My purpose here transcends your insecurities, your comments, and your lack of fav’s and RTs. I’m not gonna let you finish. Nike. Google. Thought Catalog.
I am a God.