Sometimes...Civility is not the Answer
I hide myself for the shame of hypocrisy...
Last night I decided to write an articulate post addressing all the ramifications and backwardness that one dear George has caused or decided to state in order to rampantly insult my friends with. I did not speak in harsh tones, nor did I berate him in any way. I just addressed the issue of immaturity versus maturity. Yet, today, I have come to the realization that my outer appearance and the way I hold myself may be undeniably mature, but I do lack the conviction to just sit idly by and have my friends (as well as myself) consistently trashed for no reason. I could understand if the reasons were just and let the slandering continue willingly, but at this point. I think it is open for discussion and I feel the fire of his burning hell wash over me in forked tongues and pitch-forks. I am going to insult him on every degree here. As well as Sarah, I am assuming. I have not written anything up to date about this, so it will be a rant that might be one for the ages. It might be a bit discombobulated seeing that I have no idea what strings will pull my fingers to type. And, in a way, it will be indeed mature since I am not letting it out in the open for all the spoiled children to see the frenzied words I shall write on the matter. This is to justify my own feelings on the situation and to make my innards feel better since I know that he is just a pussy. So, here goes nothing:
First things first, on addressing the "slut" issue that I so delicately inherited from the fiery furnace of his mouth. Just the initial fact that it's the only thing that you can come up with is actually funny because it seems as though you just threw my name into this mixture of people because you, for reasons apparent, hate me. The fact that you think I am going to be bothered by being called a slut and somehow get heated over it is preposterous. One little word isn't going to do much to me- especially since I have dealt with my sluttyhood in the past and know that I am not one now. Evidence is lacking. And, you are obsessed with me. Get over yourself freak.
Second thing, the fact that you actually go in and erase people's comments to you that actually disagree with your sentiments (and keep the ones that do) is so utterly funny. And before I forget, I am going to include the word immature in there as well. It's as though you don't want people to know that your words are complete crap so you are going to erase these intelligent comments from oblivion so the rest of the onlookers will think that people haven't tried to argue because it's true- or, because you don't want to admit that you are bizarrely wrong and actually come in contact with the people that you have insulted. You can't keep away from the world forever. Don't those apparitions that haunt you in the night lend credence to the fact that you are always watched, you pitiful sack of shit? It's funny how you always change what you believe with the people that you are with. Oh yes, and Sarah, just something for you to realize sweetheart, the last person George was inside, was me. That's correct. That's why he is obsessed with me. He can feel me all over. I am the last thing on his mind when he goes to bed. I am the last thought he has when he is done touching himself. When he looks in your eyes, all he sees is me because my juices are all over that pencil penis of a dick he has dangling between his scrawny legs. It's all me. And there isn't a part of you on there darling. It's not that I am proud of that little fact, I am just stating the truth. You know- something with evidence.
Thirdly, was the issue that you brought up in the post last night something that actually has to do with you? I can understand if you want to stand up for your girlfriend. By all means, that is actually tolerable. But the fact that you insert yourself into the mess and make it something about you is utterly insane. You are delusional dear boy. The debate had nothing to do with you and your conceited little prick of a mind. You are addicted to drama. When everyone is ignoring you, you cry like a little lost puppy. No one is paying attention to you...waaa...waaaa...pay attention to meeeee...I am alone and lonely and afraid of the dark. I need someone to change my diaper all the time. Mommy. Hold my hand. Look at me cry. I need you. I am pitiful. I am less than human. I cant do anything for myself. Waaa Waaaa!!!
Lastly, on your novel and why you have not gotten it published yet (and this is sad for me to admit because I once thought you a very beautiful writer you buck-toothed psycho). You are not good anymore. Paragraph upon paragraph of rhetorical babble about spinning swastikas and nihilistic babble is not going to get you a novel. Let me give you an example of what I mean oh dear Cypress Dreadslay: "He trampled along the spinning spiral of chaos with his nihilistic fury of chaotic proportions as the swastika spins to the left eagerly like a spinning star spiraling into chaos and nihilistic fury. Cypress Dreadslay walked along contemplating the consequences of his actions and in turn banished the sun while these spinning swastikas traveled through Eastern Europe." Yeah. Sorry. That's not going to get you published dear heart. Ever think of writing something without using repetition of idiotic words all the time? You aren't proving that you are a good writer. You actually suck. Hence, you are going to be living at your mommy and daddy's house for all eternity working on a book that no one is going to publish because...in simple terms...you suck. And you don't have a degree. And you can't even read. Basically, you suck.
The End.
Thank the heavens above...I kiss my Goddess's feet.