Because I live rent free in your tiny head.
You only live in
MY tiny head you stupid fuck. Don't pretend anyone else gives a shit about your vapid, aggressively trite opinions except for someone as pathologically robbed of inhibition and discipline as I. And so far and unto forever, only I.
No one else is going to write you
psychotic post-modern short stories with a
meta-narrative that reference an
argument we had five fucking years ago whenever you bring up a
tangential topic. You don't even remember or understand the catalyst for this obsession because while for me our initial argument in the summer of 2017 was an apocalyptic exposure to a one-of-a-kind moronic smugness, for you it was just a Friday night. The fact that the big fat idiocy you idly
shit into the world happened to land in this sufficiently soft and grooved brain of mine as to create a you-shaped decline is in no way a testament to the momentous weight of your opinions but is rather a mark of chancy shame upon the both of us, you insufferable head-up-your-ass cretin.
I pay 48 people on Fiverr - yes that's one covering every major time zone and, since Covid, a substitute for each in case someone gets sick - to send me an email, a text message, and a fax every time you make a post on this forum related to such things as "power attacks," "game modification," "action RPGs," and "Porky's original thoughts - God save us all," to name a few. It was only per the advice and assistance of the medical and psychiatric staff working out of my previous place of residence that for the past few years I have had the self-control to ignore the awfully retarded nonsense you write, coping instead by grinding the print-outs of your posts into a fine dust and snorting them. Through my urethra.
If anyone else whosoever actually gave a damn about your worthless existence, it could plausibly inspire some positive change in the world and therefore stop being worthless, thus giving someone as strangely preoccupied with pointless self-harm as I no reason to continue engaging with you. And yet here I am, so evidently I am the only one after all.
Hineni, you dumb devil
. Consider the following:
-If your posts had the same manic effect on George R. R. Martin's creative writing output as on mine, he would have, like, a fifth of the
Winds of Winter done already.
-If your posts had the same masochistic effect on the sexual proclivities of Russian troops as on mine, the war in Ukraine would surely have ended already as they would all desert to check themselves into the nearest intact emergency room to treat the self-inflicted damage to their urinary tract.
-If your posts retroactively had the same devastating effect on the will-to-live of historical astronauts as on mine, they would have all found ways to turn their ships, vessels, and stations towards the Earth, their blazing suicides raining upon our wretched heads as fiery stars of fell crimson, perhaps granting sweet oblivion to I who is cursed to yet live.
Never again pretend that anyone else gives as much as a single cock-choked queef about you or the cancerous womb of your mind that spawns the still-born scum you mistake for thoughts.
You know nothing, you are nothing, you are no one and mean nothing to anyone except me. And what you mean to me is seething hatred, and all I know of you I despise.
Though never as much as I despise myself for bearing the misfortune of knowing you.