I’m going to tell you this right now because it’s been bothering me all night. No one makes you read what I’m writing. No one sits you down in front of your computer and moves your eyes across the screen and tortures you with cold laughs as your poor, sensitive, useless heart trails across the page, staggering in mock-helplessness, a desperate plea for attention. No one makes you do that. 

You do those things all on your own, so don’t you come crying or whining or shouting or moaning to me when what I say makes you upset. I’m not sorry, I’m not going to be sorry, I’m not going to change, and if you don’t like it, then I strongly suggest that, quick frankly (as that’s all that gets through that thick, pathetic skull of yours), you move the fuck on.

I never thought this was my style, but I guess we can just say I’ve changed. Maybe you should, too.