Letter to my blog which degenerates into a rant

Dear Blog,

Evans is hunting you, so beware. He plans to find you and read you and learn everything that I wrote about him from your pages. He claims you are his Holy Grail. I suppose in the same way he proclaimed himself my bitch.

His behaviour has been odd of late, flirting with me, kissing me, telling me about other hot girls he wants. Is he being a prat, unaware or simply immature? If he reads you, please make him comment about what the hell kind of game he is playing. Being not American, I don’t play the stupid games. If you like me and I like you, let’s get it on. I’m not going to fake what I feel. At the moment I don’t know what I feel except a mild irritation at Evans’ attitude. Yes it would be nice to experience the full range of sensory pleasures that can happen with consenting adults. I miss the sucking, fucking, smell of skin. But if he is so immature as to think he can make me jealous by telling me about hot girls, I fear the pillow talk would not be up to much.

No more games Evans. You want to get it on, let’s. You want to use me as a crutch when there are no blond girls around, you can fuck right off. And if you are wondering why I don’t approach you, it’s because I fear that you would be too damn scared, if a woman like me showed interest. Your move, bitch.


Dark Sarcasm


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