Boy, today is an interesting day, to say the least.
I've had a long day. It's a real life thing, so I won't get into it, but it left me feeling emotionally drained. It was definitely one of those "What am I doing? Why am I making it so hard for myself?" moments where I wondered whether it would be easier to just throw my hands up in the air and walk away from the nonsense.
Usually getting online and becoming Mrs Giggles is a nice way to get away from some of the most annoying aspects of real life for a while, but it does seem as if online has caught up with real life, at least for a while.
So, this isn't the classiest thing to do, but let's think of this as a way to vent some steam on my part. I'm going to pull an Alanis Morisette and write a "Dear You Know Who You Are" open letter. Names are of course changed to protect the innocent as well as the guilty.
It's okay that we have a different opinion over a touchy matter. I'm sorry you feel betrayed that I somehow have a different opinion from you and that I did not join the crowd throwing sticks into the bonfire, but anyhow, online drama is never my thing anyway and even if I agree with you, I still won't be joining you. Maybe we'll still be able to talk - I hope so - when you cool down and understand that sometimes perception differs between people and it's okay to disagree. Think about it - isn't it great if we get to laugh a few months down the road about how we nearly got an online "divorce" over a beautiful cocksucker? You gotta admit - such a punchline doesn't come one's way that often. Hope to speak to you again soon.
You are a shitty author, your characters are spectacular examples of the brain fart of a talent-free hack of an author who can't even write a coherent sentence if you have a torch light stuck in that empty space where your brain is supposed to be. You probably have fun believing that you are standing up against me for your fellow courageous authors who are being, oh, oppressed by a mean girl like me. I personally think you know that if you write to me, I'd laugh at your barely coherent self-important ramblings, so you're better off taking potshots at me when I'm not looking. Take your million five bananas reviews and shove them up your ass, you self important cow.
I don't know what your problem is, but I suspect that it's because I gave your work a not that favorable review and now you're busy trying to appoint yourself a moral crusader on behalf on oppressed authors anyway. I personally think you're better off working on your book, but if playing online highschool games and getting elected as queen bee validate your existence, be my guest.
PS: You're a much better writer than Emma, so I sincerely hope her utter lack of ability to string together a sentence that doesn't end with an exclamation mark doesn't rub off on you the next time you stick your lips onto her rear end.
I like you, no, I love you, darling, but sometimes you do become tad too self-important and even insufferable and I really can't stand you when you get that way. Is there a way to warn me in advance when you're in one of those moods? Love ya, honey, no matter what.
Shut up. Dear lord, shut up. I love you too, sweetheart, and we both know you are an intelligent woman with plenty of things to say. I love you because you make sense most of the time, but for the love of god, shut up for a while.