There is a writer’s group I belong to. In it, a woman keeps posting about her man on man (usually more like man on man monster) story ideas. They are each the same, aside from switch out man/goblin/werewolf. That’s it. I was patient. I started to move out of patient into I’ll cut you. Today I snapped. I told her the plots she has are on par with porn plots, that she should stop sharing the ideas since she doesn’t want to publish and they’re not good, and I finished it with I would write fan fictions of her stories where the men ended up with–wait for it–WOMEN! She loathes the idea of someone doing fan fiction based on her “writing.” I put it in quotes because what she’s doing is throwing out poorly construed masturbation material.
She called me rude, classy (I think this was sarcastic), and a jerk who should just ignore her. I did figure out how to block her, but not before saying she’s rude for posting so much drivel, accepting her comment that I’m class as a compliment, and driving her into the ground in the hopes she will never ever write again. Some days I’m a beacon of hope and patience. Other days I am a soul devouring monster.
It really helped me remember who I am. I am rarely a jerk. I don’t stop at emotionally kicking someone’s shins. In fact, if I’m trying to help you, that’s usually when I’m most perceived as a jerk. When I’m tired of you and I really truly am being a jerk, which either takes a lot or requires you to date me, I am a merciless foe who will crush you into the ground verbally and stand over your smoldering ashes, drinking the cup which I collected your tears in and urinating on the fire I used to immolate your soul in case there is the possibility you become a phoenix.
There is only one person I struggled to turn my wrath on. It’s not that sometimes I didn’t open up my wrath, but she was really good at making me the bad guy, and I loved her too much and my flaws were too severe to really lash out at her. Moral of the story? I am a monster. I will never love again because I’d rather consume souls than have mine broken down and gnawed on. I am not a jerk. I am a soul-render.
God With Us!
...like butta' on your toast!
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