I hate you.
I want to sleep. But I can't sleep. You know why? Yeah, it's your fault. Again. How many times have you driven me to this now? This is the third, no fourth, time I've typed the same meaningless line over again after mashing backspace. You're the
What? You're trying to pin the blame on me? "Oh, it's not my fault, I never told you to click that Youtube link, reply to that IM, retag my media library, blah blah blah." I'm sick of your excuses. I always knew you were out to get me, ever since that essay in 8th grade on Teddy Roosevelt. I got two hours of sleep that night. Two. To attack a defenseless thirteen year old. Have you no shame?
You know what, I bet that every time you show up, a starving writer trashes his manuscript. Is it jealously? Loneliness? A sadistic pleasure in hearing the sound of crumpling paper followed by a scream of anguish?
I bet not even your mother loves you. That's why she never writes. I totally just went there. That's right. What are you going to do, go running back to the procrastination beast again? Ha.
Get out of my life.
Sincerely,
Wesley
P.S. Give me the last five hours of my life back.
P.P.S. Don't give me that crap about wasting time writing blog posts. If you hadn't shown up, none of this would have happened in the first place.
5 comments:
Ooh, that was good. Great image included!
Writer's Block must have taken this passionate message to heart, otherwise you'd have probably responded to that IM I sent you 17 minutes ago.
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:333333333333
My life.
oh. so i see that writer's block was cheating on me. this is totes NOT OKAY.
You can have it back.
actually, it's okay for writer's block to be promiscuous with other people while i'm not looking. i think though, that we can agree that writer's block should go be a whore over in a place that does not include us.
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