Dear Journal:

What a day! Well, to begin with it’s been hot and muggy all day long so the irritability levels are through the fucking roof. But that’s not what I’m here to write about.

I know that what I have to say really pisses people off and I love that. I don’t know, I guess I’m just flagrant like that. But in any matter, I do it because that’s what I love doing. God, I should just be a lawyer and get over it. Fuck, it’s not like they’re under paid or anything…

Well, good joke, bad person to whom to play it upon. She received a group tampon today. Why? Well. It doesn’t really matter. But what matters is that he thinks he’s going to fuck me over. News for his fat ass… I didn’t take debate for the credit.

You cry harassment. I cry attempted assault and battery with malicious intent, assassination of character, and psychological limiting factors. You want to be a fucking crybaby over something that is so minutely petty, then so be it. But I swear to you, I will make everything much more complicated than it really has to be. I am the worst person in the world to fight with.

Go ahead, print this out. I’ll arraign charges of stalking and harassment. You’re a stupid, useless little fucker. I have no use for you. Nor does anybody else. And why, you must ask, do I belittle you so? Well, for all those lovely little conversations we had online. You remember, the one’s where you would sit at home behind the “protection” of your computer screen under different screen names and instant message me telling me what a loser I was. How dare you even begin loosely using that word. Of all people! On a Friday night, you would IM me and tell me what a sad, crack wacked ass whore I was, but in all actuality YOU ARE THE SAD, CRACK WHACKED ASS WHORE!

Oh, poor baby. More sexual harassment? Bite me you stupid fat fucker. This is my personal journal. You read it, you’re fucking problem. You want to fucking bitch about it, go right the fuck ahead. You can’t do jack shit about anything that I say here because there is no names involved. None. You cry and piss and moan all the fuck you want. It won’t get you anywhere.

And a word from the wise: Don’t step on toe’s today because they’re probably connected to the ass you’ll be kissing tomorrow.

Good night, sweet dreams, and rot in hell you sad, sorrowful bastard.