Dear Internet Troll,
This whole blog was just some bimbo bragging about her perfect life, amazing eyes, and whipped “bestie” NO ONE CARES! No one cares what you look like or how you manipulate men, what a boring, pre-pubescent outlook on life. Get a grip.
Dear Internet Troll,
First of all, thanks for reading my blog. Oh and thanks for commenting on it as well.
Yes, that’s right. I woke up this morning to my first negative comment on my blog. Now don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that I am not going to be everyone’s “cup of tea“, and to be honest, I wouldn’t want to be. After all, you could be the juiciest peach in the world and you’re always going to come across someone that doesn’t like peaches right?
Anyway, the comment, although brief, was to the point. I am a bimbo, with a pre-pubescent outlook on life and a “whipped” best friend. I replied to the comment in the most dignified way I could muster, bearing in mind it was 8am and I hadn’t had my morning coffee yet. It was only later, however, that I realised that the comment had kinda pissed me off. I said this:
Yet you feel the need to comment? Thanks for reading! AND commenting 😉
First of all Cait, or whatever your name was, what did you mean by my “perfect life“? Which part of my blog was it that you read exactly? The one post about what I liked about being a girl? Thanks for basing your opinion on me on that one entry alone. You must be a very openminded person indeed. This infuriates me. My “perfect” life is only seemingly perfect because I’ve had to work damn hard to make it so. My so-called perfect life has incorporated being a victim of serious domestic abuse, both physical and mental, suffering at the hands of stress, anxiety and depression for many years, self-harm, having relationship after relationship with men that spent my money, spread their wild seed like it was going out of fashion and withheld funds from me to the point where I literally starved until I finally gave in and admitted to my Mama Bear what was going on. What part of that sounds perfect to you, huh?
Maybe we should talk about what else has been so perfect in my life, shall we? Not knowing my father, a mother with more mental health issues than Vogue, a family that barely talks to each other and when they do, they aren’t normally pleasant words… Shall I carry on? Up until recently, I lived with and cared for an elderly relative… I am also a part time retail worker, and a full time writer, not only because I enjoy it, but also to make sure that I have enough money to keep myself afloat. Oh, did I mention that I have had two PLUS jobs at once for the last ten years, the longest I’ve been out of work was 6 weeks, and I’ve done more in my short and apparently “bimbo-like” life than most people could ever dream of. I have been independent and working full time, at most points putting in 60+ hour weeks, since I was 16 years old. I work hard. I don’t drink. I don’t party…
Perfect? I fucking wish!! It’s perfect for me right now, but that’s only because I made the best of my situation rather than sitting around and judging everyone else’s life. I’d love to know your story. In fact, I couldn’t care less. I wouldn’t judge you either way because I’ve got better things to do with my time. And I’m not a dick. Unlike you.
Let’s carry on… A bimbo with amazing eyes. Yep that’s me. I was bullied at school for years, to the point where I was hospitalized by both girls and boys. I tried to kill myself at the age of 14 because I was sick of being punched, having drawing pins stuck in my back, having my arms shut and almost broken in swing doors…. A bimbo with amazing eyes? Yeah I’ll take that. I’m proud of what I look like now. I’ve worked fucking hard to get over my damn insecurities. I’ve worked hard to get my self-confidence and esteem back up after years and years of being verbally and physically battered. I’ll take your bimbo tag with pride. You fucking dick. After years of being told by my husband alone that I wasn’t skinny enough, pretty enough, strong enough, I’ve finally stopped giving a shit about the opinions of people like you. Barbie is my alter-ego. The ego that gives me the strength to paint my eyeliner on in the morning and head to one of my jobs with a smile on my face after a long night of insomnia, which I have suffered with for years. Yeah, my life sure sounds perfect, doesn’t it?
My blog is my diary and although I understand that you might not like it, why don’t you just flick through to the next blog and get a grip of YOURSELF!? You hated my blog, yet still felt the need to comment. Well doesn’t that just show what a grown up little person you are? Well done. I hope you feel better about yourself. What have you done with your life? This is my diary, my journal, my blog, my words. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. It’s as simple as that. I don’t really know what kind of person would feel the need to publicly “cuss” someone down like that, especially when they have clearly only read one entry and based their entire judgement on it.
Oh, and as for the “whipped” bestie. I hardly think whipped is the best term. We have been best friends for over twelve years. He has been the one constant in my life throughout all of the turmoil and I love him to death. I would also do anything for him. Anything he needs, he gets, regardless of how many nights I work through from dusk til dawn to get it for him. The same can be said the other way round. If he’s whipped, I’m whipped. Let’s put it this way. He wanted an iPhone, I got him an iPhone. I want Disney princess shoes, he gets me Disney princess shoes. Not that I feel the need to justify our friendship to the insignificant troll, but when I told Bestie, he laughed. I reckon that says pretty much all I wanted to say, don’t you?!
I don’t know why the comment invoked such a reaction from me. And a delayed reaction at that. But I guess it just highlights how small minded and petty some people can be. Although to be fair, he still read it AND felt the need to comment so clearly I made an impact too 😉 And I bet he takes a second peek at some point soon. That is assuming it is a he, of course. It might be a she. I’ll call Cait “it”.
So that’s the end of my rant. I hope the comment made you feel better about yourself. This blog entry made me feel better. Read this and leave another nasty comment.
