Letter to a Bitzch

I do not address you directly because there would be no value in interacting with you. Your words and actions that I have personally observed seethe with manipulation and psychosis. The hearsay passed on to me indicates I am likely reasonable in my objective assessment of your detestable character.

Our first interaction was far from peachy and gay. Us being somewhat strangers to one another at this point, I repeatedly offered an amicable “hello!” to you, only to finally find myself acknowledged, finally, albeit with the statement that you “Just don’t like me.” Since then, I have discovered much evidence that furthers my initial belief that there will be no newly developed potential value in further attempt at direct verbal interaction with you.

My ire towards you is based on more than a petty, juvenile “chip on my shoulder,” which I will explain in a moment. In a delusional reality, you would understand what I communicate in this writing, but I am not so optimistic to believe in fantasies that talented people are automatically worth the resources they consume.

Although I apologized to ******* earlier for my lack of tact, specifically for my unfiltered, intoxicated candidness as I brashly posted on his facebook wall that “I wish I could walk five fucking feet without someone telling me how much of a fucking bitch your significant other (now ex) is;” despite this apology to *****, I have no apology to offer you. The sentiment I expressed on *******’s facebook wall was true.

Inappropriate choice of venue, you say about my comments? Immature, you deem them? If that is the extent of your faux wisdom (dare I call it ’projection,’ rather?), I wish you everything in life you truly deserve and nothing less. I do not know you, nor care for you, enough to wish you anything “good and well” or otherwise. You are an insecure, rude, and malicious person, and surely these traits will assist you in your life endeavors. Why else would you exercise and hone them? But your gains, especially that of temporarily ridding your world of all the interesting and beautiful things besides yourself; these thing you perceive as threats and quash with your irrational rants will never again be at my expense.

It is remarkable to me, the number of people who describe you in this manner: bitchy (the real deal bitchy, i.e. mean and malicious) and insecure. I wish for you nothing but what I wish for myself and everyone else who exhibits profound fucked-upped-ness: I wish them and myself all to have had a more nurturing and balanced childhood. That, however, is history. Adults are adults, and everyone has their own baggage. Each handles it in their own way.

I rarely dislike a person. In fact, it only happens when I have been personally and inexplicably attacked to some degree. Incidentally I detest you, for reasons that you will never hear described by me.

I don’t presume you care about my opinion, but I must express that I find it unfortunate for these nasty traits of yours to be paired with the talent you possess. The manipulation you are capable of is malignant and ruinous, and no amount of talent can lead such a character as yours to finding inner peace and fulfillment throughout life. How piteous.

Under normal circumstances, I am perfectly capable of respecting another person’s choice to tolerate less desirable traits for the sake of the better traits in their mate. Sadly, I haven’t the slightest inclination to conceal my distaste for your character. Nor have I ever. Thus, your use of the word “transparent” regarding my spouted, ambiguous insults was very interesting to me.

The high cost of possibly offending my friend who’s tangled in this mess unfortunately cannot prevent me from making my negative opinions of a person accessible to others, be them tactlessly placed or eloquently stated. For that, I apologize on behalf of myself for learning awkwardly to stand up for myself when and how I decide it appropriate.

To me, you are a piece of shit with mucous in it, you ginger painted cunt. I “love it so much” that I bother you.

You are unique for all of this. Congratulations on your blossoming career.


About Ursula E Minor

*In lieu of verbositously bombarding the email inboxes of those whose time I take care to not waste, I sought an unobtrusive, alternative outlet for my compulsion to do exactly that. This is it. Ursula E Minor at rocketmail dot com is the address I use for private written interactivity.
This entry was posted in Babbling Crick Master, Notes to Self. Bookmark the permalink.

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