A test: go to your Instagram and screencap the feelings you have when you see a photo of another girl doing some girl shit. Like, mirror-shot outfit photos; glitter-nail close-ups; grainy band shots taken from somewhere low in the pit; UES elevator weirdness; a tableau of a pile of books plus snack plus gold post-racism hoops; vaguely-sort-of-maybe cute anonymous boys in a huddle; a funny license plate; off-center snaps of blocks of text, poetry or from the newspaper. That’s a sample from this morning, because I decided that waking up to a stream of filtered shots is a nicer, gentler way to wake up (even in a teddy-bear-plush California king hotel bed; especially on a day in a life marked by anxiety, and even more anxiety in short moments of no anxiety), nicer and gentler than Twitter which is like a really masochistic thing to do to yourself at 6 AM. OK, 7. OK, 9.

So, about those feelings: what are they? Are they enveloping and likeminded, patriotism for Girl Nation? Do you see other girls doing their things and feel warm, even if your critical mind can parse and tear gaping assholes in the scrolling exhibition? If you do, that’s good. That’s the best. Because if you look at so many packed-in representations of what other girls are doing with their days and nights and shoes and nails and even though you don’t like it, or are jealous or resentful or judgmental or straight bored by them, first knowing them as your brethren who are just trying something is really, really important, and the basis of being a not-terrible person even though you/I/we definitely do a lot of terrible shit.

Underneath all the stylistic over-writing and quasi-conversationalist muck — I’m guilty of this, too! No worries, write on, writer lady — there’s a sentiment here that, while difficult for someone like me to even acknowledge or respect, every female (myself included) should actively work to implement in her daily mindset. I have been pushing to be more “unilaterally accepting” of everyone I meet (especially other women) in an attempt to make myself “a better person,” or whatever. While I was dating my ex, people (usually my ex) often accused me of being cold, callous, unfeeling and an overall stone cold bitch. For the most part, I never cared; being a bitch was (still is!) part of my “steez,” as it were — so why stop doing what I was doing just so I could be nice to some empty-headed, rail-thin blonde bimbo whose #1 pastime is “attending raves”? At the time, I had a boyfriend, a successful record label, cool connections and “friends” — how would pandering to some vapid person for the sake of being nice benefit my life in any way?

Turns out, when things like “boyfriends” and “relationships” and “successful record labels” crumble apart like cheap generic brand cookies, you’re sort of left with nothing but your own devices. And, when your prevailing mindset is to parade around spouting a bunch of snark to near-strangers in an attempt to bring them down/bring you up, you tend to transform into a very unhappy shell of a human being who (for understandable reasons) has very few friends and even fewer romantic prospects. Too long, didn’t read — no one wants to be friends with the resident bitch of the social circle.

Because of all the insecurities I have pent up inside of me, most of them a byproduct of that 4 year-long relationship where I felt as if I was in constant competition with “stupid hot girls” who could potentially lure away my boyfriend with their “big boobs” and “blonde hair,” most of my jerk tendencies are projected and misdirected onto women who I perceive to be “better” than me. (God, it sounds even more stupid and petty when you see it written out, doesn’t it?) Sure, I can cover up my envy with a lot of hate, but at the core of these “feelings” there’s always jealousy, inadequacy and self-hatred. It took me — what? six months? — to even acknowledge and attempt to process this weird thing I do, but I feel that now I am only just beginning to change that thought process within myself.

From time to time, I still resort to those told ways — but now, I can stop myself and really think about why I am projecting so much eye-rolling super snark on “random females.” OK, maybe you don’t like this random girl because a dude you have a crush on seems to like her more than you and yes, girls with fashion blogs are slightly annoying and self-centered — but what the hell! You might think, because she’s thin and tall and what you would consider “attractive” (“sexy”?), that she’s completely unworthy of respect and should automatically be hated. But, did you notice she rarely shows her face in pictures? And do you remember that time you saw her at a show alone and she was basically hiding in a corner? Maybe this girl is just as insecure and weird as you, if not more.

Too long, didn’t read. I might still be a bit sad, I might still not have a load of “hot dudes” to take me out on dates — but I’m finally recognizing that misdirected anonymous hate snark is possibly the worst thing any woman (or any person, for that matter) to project out into the world. Not everyone is going to be a nice person, sure, but it all comes down to that “golden rule” — put out into the world what you want back from the world.

Blah blah blah.