I know this world you don’t.
Hey blog readereenos. Lets be real now, how you doing? How’s winter? How’s work? How’s your overall quality of life? It’s hard getting through winter eh I think it must be for my hater because she will not leave me alone I speculate that my life must look easy to some? Like sorry you have to work so hard and I eat a lot of chocolate who cares maybe get a new hobby? I work a lot too you giant fucking asshole. And I started working on this work years ago so that I could sit on my ass for the rest of my life writing about myself, eternally. Stop telling me to grow up, why? Are you old as shit is that why my artiste lifestyle unhinges you so much? You must be ugly too, must! The insides of your core definitely are. Ew. It sickens me to even write about you. It is your goal in life to make me out to be as despicable as you feel, day in and out. Everything you say to me is a projection of your self’s reflection and I am tired of your abuse. I had a talk with the police yesterday about you. They called me. I would be afraid, you are being watched. They told me to tell you that.
So, no matter fucking what I post you chirp up about me FINE I will just continue on then pissing you off you sicko fuck. This is where I will be “growing up” turning 30 in Aruba next week. For two weeks. Enjoy your shitty cold temperature. I might go off the grid. Haha kidding there’s wifi at my house don’t worry about that. Yes, my house. For two weeks.
ANywhoooo. My insiders say STFU about you because I AM RAYMI THE MINX. If you have all these alleged jobs and glory why are you obsessing over me? You are a nothing. You are a liar. You wish you were me and “that is sad” but understandable. I mean, I’d totally wish to have cult following infamy too had I not I would SOOOOO want Playboy to recognize and admire and pay me for one. being hot and two. super fucking smart! I’d love to have the spotlight shined on me for years and years of hard work day in and out of blog influencing spin doctoring it girl WORK for telling stories about every goddamn thing and person I do for assholes at home to devour because I know they love it and I’m good at it I am not sorry for doing what I was born to do and doing it well I’m just sorry you can’t figure out how to shine in your own light and are so threatened by me and that you hide after all these years if you super fucking think you can stand toe-to-toe with me and the way I am living my life then why you hiding bro, if you REALLY were my foe and competition then come out with it and own it and lets fucking go, lets let them see who you are and then I will address the PAGES of queries and meticulous obsessive falsities you’ve trolled me with over the years you piece of loser shit. I’m sorry you have to “work three jobs” because you are ugly. I am sorry you are both 20 and 30 years old at the same time somehow and that a man comes and visits you once in awhile???? Like I asked for this information? Do you think I give a shit about you? Do you not have any real friends to tell this shit to? Do you want me to come and fuck you will that make you alright? I am sorry you are so drawn to me because obviously it repulses you this basketball diaries vortex you’re in I just hope I figure out who you are in time that you go full SWF on me.
I am a person afflicted with depression. I am a unique snowflake. I am one of those people. A rock star said that I have star quality. Fact. Many have, continue to. I am well-respected. I am a muse. People I don’t fuck who are more famous and successful adore me. Sorry to break it to you that for lack of a better term I’m, AWESOME. Do I fucking sound off about it every day like every other vapid diva blogger? NO. You clearly see it and that is why you are attempting so fastidiously to break me down. Cyber bullying is your method. Do you know that you have a mental illness? It is a fact that you have mental illness. Repeat that to yourself and work on it. The flow of your negativity ends with me I do not continue this abuse or deliver it to anybody else I do not torment haunt or stalk people, you are disgusting. You are watching someone live their life in the way that they have chosen in order to survive it and the only thing they are guilty of ever is sharing their life with the world. You’re so blindingly jealous of any and everything about me I really feel bad for you but only after I complete visualizing all the violent things I am going to do to you once I find you and before I hand you over to my cop friend. This isn’t a threat it’s a promise. You have ruined too many days of my life, you have harassed and hurt me and because I’m not someone of Julia Roberts a-list stature you are STILL HERE. If I had your identity, crissy, I’d have a restraining order on you. If I was Julia Roberts you’d be written about in US weekly.
Anyway, grown up or not, women journal. They blog. They diarize. Women elder than I adopted MY NICHE, mommy bloggers got on board, teenagers of course too, and that’s awesome because everybody is allowed to do it, to share their life to have differing opinions on shit and share them I never thought that my differing opinions would be so spectacularly horrifying to anger people so much but, that is the nature of the internet people have anger problems and they sound them off online and most without thinking first. I can handle “the haters” thing I get that not all are as mentally matured as I or you or him or that but this is beyond that at this point. This is one person targeting me this is irreversible rage this person will not stop or give up and I am not going to lose this battle until justice is served. I know the phone you use, your city, SO MANY IP addresses, and amount of times on my blog. When you are found, you are fucked. That is a promise.
What’s going to happen when I get into a relationship and have babies are you going to psycho harass me then too? Yeah no you have to end now. We are settling this shit once and for all. I don’t want you to be part of my life anymore. Sometimes life in itself is work you wouldn’t understand that because you’re trapped in a box. Well I am not. I have been trying to illustrate that to the fucking world for 12 years now apparently I HAVEN’T BEEN CLEAR ENOUGH.
Life is work because it just is. Even to vacation that is work. Planning it. Travel insurance, clothes. Accommodation. I have to listen to mom and Lois nag me day in and out leading up to it what to pack. Travel stress/anxiety. Whatever. I am tired of being made to feel guilty about the spoils I receive when I receive them I’m trying to celebrate my fucking life here good grief it’s my fucking birthday month and you will never be happy, if I’m working eight jobs or have 4 boyfriends if I am fat or if I’m thin YOU WILL NEVER BE HAPPY and that’s on you so keep it to yourself.
Look it’s lobster cobb salad! How infuriating! Write a paragraph about it fuckstain!
Standing in lamp light my mom’s idea holy shit do we ever need to grow up or what MAY DAY MAY DAY!!!! Can you pour me a glass of grow up or what please it’s an emergency.
Better sit down because OH SHIT here comes some self confidence now get a load of this I’m posting a selfie something I do a fraction of the amount of time that I used to and comparatively to the attention-seeking ways of my fellow blogging instagramming facebook REST OF THE FUCKING PLANET I hope someone’s there to pick up the pieces of you being blown through a wall over this smug hotel mirror shot and my boot on the toilet what? Oh no…
NOT INSTAGRAM! God fucking Christ NOT Instagram! Don’t take a family photo St. Patty’s Day keepsake like that now what nerve. Grow up and sit in front of an office desk with shuffled work papers on it instead of blogging photos of what you did on holiday like you haven’t been doing this for twelve years already like you just woke up and decided to be a blogger out of the blue something totally foreign like that and what are these words doing here while I’m at it what is this a fucking quippy anecdote or something are you trying to make me laugh here why are you still typing go grow up I SAID get thee to a boring life where we can’t see you or hear you because you make us irate stop telling us things and stuff about things stop daring stop deigning stop trying stop meow!
And now I’m going to organize my seasonal piles of clothing thank you for watching.