No more comments…
As of two weeks ago, this blog picked up a "helpful" stalker who delivers pithy sheltered advice that usually ends with "seek therapy. You are good person, just confused." BUT last night, this helpful therapy referrer said "Seven million people on this planet, four are surplus…" And fuck you. You told me to get therapy, but you just dehumanized fully one half of the planet? No, fuck you, douchebag. You don't get to make any more comments to set me off. In fact, no one gets to comment ever, because of you.
The rest of you, I'm sorry, but it's not like comments here have ever been busy or vital. If you want to talk to me, there's still email: zoe (at) zoewhitten (dot) com.
This isn't a forum, nor is it a public platform for a celebrity. This is my journal and personal blog. It is the writing space of a person with mental problems, with physical holes in my head made by plaque scarring. My random and sometimes corrupted thought streams can be offensive. That's why there's a warning right at the start of my blog that I can be offensive and reader discretion is advised. Some of what I discuss will offend you. But if all you want to say to me is that you're offended, I don't care. You don't have the right not to be offended. You only have the right to go somewhere else if you don't like my message.
Oh, and before you question my morals, let us be clear. I live in self-imposed exile, and have for most of my life. My morals may be messed up, but I can at least understand that and keep myself indoors. What's sad is, I work so hard not to attack or molest anyone, and there's dickheads walking around who would happily nuke half the planet to satisfy their privileged view of the "order of things". But they're "sane" for wanting to kill, and I'm crazy for wanting to keep complete strangers safe from me.
People like this sociopath tell me I'm confused about how the world works. But I'm not confused. The world doesn't work, and never has. It hobbles along with us doing everything we can to prevent real progress. We're hateful beasts looking for some excuse to go on the attack. Yes, me too. Some of you ain't so bad, and you try to keep that lizard-brain part of you in check. But some of you need to get in touch with your human sides. Preferably before you begin advising the mentally ill on topics you're not qualified to discuss.
