Long Lost Friend.

I imagine you're wondering if this is a nice post. You know who you are. Formerly two letters long, and dislikes being called 'Lady?' Be forewarned - This is a Vent post. A big one.

A few weeks ago it would have been a sweet post; I would have been hoping we could hang out in your new place and go get soup and enjoy a friendship. I would have told you all about the wedding we went to. I would have spoken to you about your NaNoWriMo plans! I may even have welcomed you back into my home.

But, well... Not really, now.

SO... if you don't want to know how I really feel, then stop reading. This is not a nice post. Thanks.

I want to berate you in every way possible. I want to take your face and rub it in the asinine crap you do. I want to talk to you like you're 3 years old because that's how you act. I want to peel away the layers of your face that make your fake little mask and spit on the real gremlin hide laying beneath.

I don't even know where to start - I have this delightful, infuriated euphoria. I wonder to myself what would happen if I ever saw you again. I wonder what would happen if I heard a breath, a whisper, a comment about you. It hurts you know. Oh, it hurts. I've never felt this way about someone I used to call a friend. What do I say?

Oh, oh, here's one, a good story, something I would like to share. There once was this little girl. We were friends. Such good friends that when I saw things that I thought would make her happy, I leaped at the chance to gift them to her. I enjoyed that she liked them. But then of course, the little girl threw a fit. And another fit. And each time she threw a fit, she also threw those gifts into the hallway, on the ground. Once she even told me to burn them. So I did. (Because well, you get what you freakin' ask for, don't you?)

She said she didn't want them any more. Didn't want to be reminded of us.

And these were gifts given before any changes occurred, gifts given over a lengthy span. For birthdays, holidays, Wednesdays.  BUT Funny thing. This little infant didn't quite know the meaning of conviction. Or commitment. Because not everything went into the tantrum pile. NO, no, no! She picked and chose, as if we would have forgotten the things we gave her.

Well. After having discarded a leather jacket, a hooded sweater, satin bathrobe, moonstone bracelet, shoe rack  and other nick-nacks she asked me to burn, she decided to keep a Journal, two dresses, a hand made dream-catcher (That she claimed didn't work anyway,) and a pair of fancy shoes. All gifts. Hmm, why were some more special than others?

I suppose she just thought tossing SOME items would have the same effect. (No. No it doesn't. It's just ridiculous. All or nothing, woman, fucking pick one you child. Either toss everything back in my face like a furious kindergartner, or grow the fuck up and keep all of it. And SINCE you announced the kindergarten route, then nut-up and send me the other shit because you are no longer eligible for the grown up option.)

Ahem. Perhaps that story was a bit rough near the end, I apologize, sometimes I do get carried away.

Anywho, onto a comment about Professionalism.

Whilst at your work place, is it appropriate to discuss personal matters? I suppose it's situational. If it's a completely outside force and you are friendly with some co workers, there may not be any harm in it.

BUT if you work with someone, and you purposefully spew forth this miasma of hateful nonsense JUST so that you can feel the validation behind your lying tongue, then you are unprofessional. You are not grown up enough to have a job, you should quit, go back home, and live in your parents basement until you can get you head up out of your ass and act like an adult.

Let me clarify, I think I trailed off there. It is unprofessional to run your mouth about a co worker especially if it involves personal matters that are none of anyone's goddamned business. NOT only does this make you look like a drama queen and an attention starved high-schooler, but it ALSO makes the work environment unbearable for the person you happen to be shit talking every single day you work. Do you know why? Can you wrap your measly little mind around WHY that is unprofessional? Does it sink in?

I'm going to assume not, so let me spell it out for you.

Because you are dealing with someone's livelihood. YOU are making their WORKPLACE a torment, for NO OTHER REASON than to feel superior and validated by the people you think are your friends. You just want to gather up a little team of minions and look down your noses at someone who isn't even THERE half the time to DEFEND themselves. You just want to feel like you were right, no matter how much you distort the truth, no matter how many times you mope and roll your eyes and click your tongue, and scowl at them when they work the same day as you. YOu want sympathy, pity, you want to be coddled and you want your hand held. YOU can't get past your own ego enough to realize HOW STUPID (Yeah, it's a bad word, don't call people stupid, I know, but it's fucking true here,) you sound when you tell people that YOU claim responsibility for the 'HEX' on him and how his health is declining and how shitty his luck is.

... Are you seriously proud of being such a petty moron? A HEX? You're going to go around talking to people who work directly with him and NOT YOU, and tell them all sorts of awful shit, roll your eyes, waggle your chin with fake ass tears (I may be elaborating, but I imagine, as with other occasions I've actually witnessed, that this is the case) and PLEA for them to take SIDES?

You know what? If it was just a harmless rumor it wouldn't matter. BUT if your petty bullshit interferes with the job, you are actually in the wrong. That's right, you are not LIA and you are not righteous, and you are not a GOOD PERSON. And if this influences MANAGEMENT against the person you're talking shit about then you should just slap yourself in the face since I can't currently reach you right now.

It's like you don't even fucking think before you speak. Even before you started spewing hate to everyone who would even listen to you, you tried to spew it at me. ME. WHEN I WAS THERE AND KNOW WHAT HAPPENED you would try to spin it against him, as if, AS IF in a thousand years I would 'take your side', WHAT THE HELL, who are you how old are you, fucking seriously?!?

YOU NEED THERAPY. That isn't a joke, and it isn't said sarcastically, I honestly think you need therapy. It would probably do you a world of good.

On another note:

I am so incredibly glad you are out of my life because I swear if I ever see you again I think I may actually hit you.... All right, I wouldn't hit you.

More likely, I would just burst out laughing. So much for your self-decreed maturity, huh?

Keep talking shit about the man I love and I will eviscerate you in writing every chance I get, because honestly, you aren't worth the effort to hurt or maim. Also, I'm not an idiot and I don't want to go to jail. Unfortunately, I'm a grown up now, and the best and only way for me to vent how much I actually, honestly hate your rat guts (without any legal repercussions,) is to go on this silly blog and tell anyone who reads it that I hate you.

ELIRAE, I hate you. (I contemplated actually putting your name. Was this close.)

But I am still so mad, I am uncontrollably mad, I can't get past how freaking mad I am, I keep thinking of colorful combinations of curse words and 'Twat' to substitute your name with. I - I - I don't even have the words for how disgusted I am with you.

The wedding was lots of fun, I'm glad you weren't there, and I only thought of you in worry that you would damage our personal possessions in our absence.

Enjoy the shit we gave you that you decided was too nice to go into the burn pile, you bitch.

Tell all your work friends about that, maybe you'l get a hug. AND I won't care because I DON'T FUCKING WORK THERE AND I DON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOUR SHIT.

There. Spite had. Done. Phew.

Ok. I feel a bit better. 😁