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Apparently, I've been pissing off people who previously considered themselves my friends since I've come back. "Aramis, you wicked fiend, how and why have you been doing this?" you ask. Let me answer you simply: I will no longer say what people want to hear just to avoid hurting their feelings. I'm going to tell the honest-to-God truth. Some of you may not like it. Actually, I'm convinced you won't like it. But, damn, it feels great to tell you what I'm actually thinking and not keeping quiet just so you feel better. Yes, this will hurt. Am I sorry it's going to hurt you? No. Am I sorry it's going to piss you off and probably cause you to never speak to me again? No. Because you need to hear it. The both of you are so self-absorbed that you don't even notice what's going on around you. So here it goes.
Bre: The world is a pretty big place! I mean, we've got seven continents and seven seas, hundreds of different nationalities and quite possibly thousands of languages. There's an entire planet full of culture and legends, customs and rituals, religions and architecture. The world's too big for you to take in, you say? Well, how about we start right in the little ol' United States of America. In case you were too absorbed in your anime, comic books and f*****t T.V. shows to notice, we're in the middle of a political scandal (again), Big Oil has announced record profits among inflation, and soldiers are still dying in Iraq and Afghanistan. Hell, if that's still too big for you, take a look around your local town. Pick up a newspaper. Turn of the T.V. and the computer for an hour a day and educate yourself in what's going on in the world around you. It seems every time I take another chance at talking to you, the subject inevitably turns to anime, faggots, and sex. I'm tired of all that. You're just as two-dimensional as your oh-so-life consuming anime characters. You're 17. A year away from legally being an adult. Act like it. It's nice to have a hobby. And just because you like it so much doesn't mean I have to be forced to hear about it for hours. If conversations were meant to be so one-sided, you should be perfectly fine talking to a mirror. I'm nearly convinced that if I put a knife in your chest, you'd bleed ink instead of blood, that's how obsessed you are with your cartoons. Oh. One more thing. Learn how to spell. Like I said before, if a 45-year-old Pakistani immigrant can learn English and spell better than someone born and raised in America, you should be ashamed of yourself.
Amanda: For months, I endured your, "Josh isn't here; I'm so depressed!" tantrums. If the guy was five minutes late for a 6 o'clock chat date, you'd hurl yourself into a self-induced pit of anguish. I've said this to you before, I believe: "He had a life before he knew you existed." Just because he met you doesn't mean he has to quit his job, drop out of school, and ignore his family just so he can meet you on MSN at a specified time. And all of a sudden, one day, you decide that all of this deep, heartfelt, soul-wrenching, boundary-breaking love for him no longer exists. You dropped him like a bad habit. In favor of... someone who CAN make your 6 o'clock chat date! Oh, yes, convenience of time and schedule completely overshadowed "true love" and your newest sweetheart now consumes your thoughts. But wait! What's this? Precious little "Vakky" hasn't shown up in two whole days?! Oh, no! What's a girl to do? I know! Go on MSN and complain to everyone who will listen that Vakky hasn't made his 6 o'clock chat date, and you miss him soooo much and you love him sooooo much and your whole world will just tear in two if he doesn't sign on in the next three minutes. Either that, or you'll just find yourself a new boyfriend; whichever works. Every time something doesn't go the way you want it to go, you go into this overdramatic depression. All of a sudden, the world hates you and God is out to murder us all. Please. Save the theatrics for the stage. I'm not going to sit back and watch your pity-plays anymore.
...
AAAAAAAHHHHH, THAT FELT GREAT.
Am I saying this stuff to be mean? No. I'm letting out all of that pent-up frustration you morons have piled onto me with the expectation that good ol' Aramis will tell you something nice and make it all better. Well, enough of that s**t. From now on, Aramis will tell you exactly what he thinks of you, good or bad. It's not my job to magically make everything better.
If it were, my name would be God, now wouldn't it?
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Fri Nov 11, 2005 @ 04:54am · 4 Comments |
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