Please, we all love to hear your problems, especially when they are not real and you fabricate a huge deal out of nothing because drama is the only thing that spices up your non-existent life. We all love the way you complain, bitch, whine about every little thing, blow said little thing to enormously tragic proportions, and repeat the entire process multiple times to whomever will lend a doomed ear. Oh, and I forgot to thank you for delighting us with your moaning about me finding out your terrible 'secret' after you basically told the entire universe yourself. You know, for once I thought that you might have had a *real* problem on your hands, like some of us actually do...and you know what? I was going to actually draw upon my vast reserve of information on this topic to *help* you, putting aside your bitchiness throughout our history and be the bigger person. But, as per usual, there was nothing to worry about in the first place.
I heard that you took health? Must be that you were one of those kids too 'cool' to pay attention to the teacher. But you know, it pays off to know that if there is no semen entered into the vagina, there is no chance of pregnancy. And even if your oh-so-esteemed boyfriend did not finish all up in your snatch he actually needs to pre-cum for anything to even possibly make you pregnant, you idiot. And pre-cum only contains semen left over from, say, masturbation. In other words, semen that is probably dead anyway. Or maybe you knew all of that. And, knowing that he pre-cummed *after* he pulled out, you still called/texted every person on your contact list to freak out over the issue with and squeeze some sympathy out of. You did not know where to get the morning-after pill, you say? Well, if you are too stupid to know that basically every drugstore has some on hand, you could have just Googled it. Oh, and your friend didn't know where to get the plan-B either, so she had to tell more people? That is how you justify the entire world knowing this? Well, then how do your 'friends' all know where to get weed but somehow have no idea how to obtain an effing morning-after pill?
You create the epitome of fake, you know. Its quite admirable the way you continuously pretend that you are the damsel in distress who just want to lead her tragic life in secret and in peace while you make up the tragedy in the first place and then spread the word the best you can. Yes, oh wondrous damsel in distress, we see through your little facade. You feel left out in this depressing world laden with *real* issues, you attention whore; you want people to look at you and not the others who suffer from problems that in no way compare to yours...you know, domestic violence, depression, alcoholism, all that jazz. Or, perhaps, you want to feel part of that unfortunate group because there is a slim chance that you might be a pregnant teenager. Slim chance like getting pregnant while using a condom. Yay! Now you can be all Juno and whatnot.
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that your boyfriend is the only one who mildly even wants anything to do with you, because the rest of us JUST DON'T CARE and are TIRED of all the drama you pretend is happening in your oh so typical suburban life. And this said boyfriend is well, we all know, too stupid to know the difference.
You are probably so self-centered that you think I am blogging about you. No, this isn't written specifically for your eyes, you wannabe hipster. And stop lurking my blogs. You aren't even subscribed, geez.
This is me being too lazy to send emails to secretspinelesswhine every time I want to rant/complain/bitch (which is pretty often). This is just a tool to preserve what sanity I have left. Read it, judge it, judge me. I really don't care.