Dear Internet;
I understand I haven’t been so attentive lately, veering from my normal course of ramblings, curse words and stories I hope to God my parents will never, ever read only to abandon you for the cause of a published column – but, please, do me a favour and make me famous? After all, I can only rely on the outrage of bitter, old university directors for so long before I, too, get lost in a sea of nameless writing students. Hell, I’d settle for mild popularity at best and perhaps a couple hundred fans that haven’t directly met me – preferably some that don’t even live in the same geographical location as I do. That’d be cool.
I understand I haven’t been so attentive lately, veering from my normal course of ramblings, curse words and stories I hope to God my parents will never, ever read only to abandon you for the cause of a published column – but, please, do me a favour and make me famous? After all, I can only rely on the outrage of bitter, old university directors for so long before I, too, get lost in a sea of nameless writing students. Hell, I’d settle for mild popularity at best and perhaps a couple hundred fans that haven’t directly met me – preferably some that don’t even live in the same geographical location as I do. That’d be cool.
You know what? For you, I might even divulge a few more stories detailing some of my recent less-moral indiscretions and risk the internet creeping skills my dad has seemed to develop of late. I do know just how much you enjoy my juvenile obnoxiousness! Besides, you know I love you so much more than any silly old newspaper – where else would I get to foster false hopes quite as fixedly as I do than with you?
Oh, and just for you this Valentine’s, I wrote a poem:
Roses are pretty, but Peonies cost more,
Thanks to you, though, I won’t forget Rule 34!
With love,
Tanysia
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