Before I get started: I should note that I’m well aware how trying to use reason with crazy is an exercise in futility, but I’d like to give it a shot anyway.
Despite you creating a fake account, complete with three separate photos which looked nothing like each other, I know exactly who you are and I would like to address some of the things you said in your exceedingly erratic and desperate messages.
"You lead me on"
I’m going to hold back on ridiculing your tenuous grasp on the English language, though that will come in a bit, and walk you through the nature of our “relationship”. You were a sad, lonely girl and I was nice to you. Any misunderstandings about this kindness being anything more is completely on you. Ask any artist which submitted to FRH; I’m nice to everyone. It doesn’t make you special. In fact, every time you ever alluded to having feelings for me, I politely turned you down. I have never once given any indication that I felt otherwise. Even when you started telling me you loved me and sent the worst pieces of writing I’ve ever read, including Stephanie Meyer, I held steadfast in my claim that I would never feel anything other than friendship for you. In fact, I can remember three different talks in the span of a month reasserting my stance. So, how you came up with conclusion which told you otherwise is due to your fucked up perception of reality and not my leading you on. In fact, I wish I had your imagination. I’d be a much better writer.
"If she wasn’t in the picture we could be together."
Well, no we couldn’t. See above. I was single for six months we knew each other and I still had no desire to be with you. And, frankly, if you knew half of the shit her and I got into behind closed doors I highly doubt you’d still be trying to fill out an application to take her place. So, let me reiterate; there is no chance in this world or any other you create inside your head where we end up together. Get some fucking help. With your head I mean, not anything too drastic.
That said, let’s play devil’s advocate. Let’s say that I had fallen for this imaginary person you concocted, what would have been your endgame? What were you going to do if I showed up to meet you? The person you posted pictures of was exponentially more attractive than you and at least 4 feet taller. What were you going to do then? Way to think that one through, pal.
I’ve also found your blog, you’d deleted your old one after I told you to fuck off, and it seems that you have a boyfriend. Now, there is a ton of evidence which leaves me to believe he is another fabrication but, if he isn’t, how do you think he’d feel knowing the shit you get up to behind his back? I’d tell him myself, but I’m almost positive those messages would go directly to your inbox. Because he’s fictional, you see.
Now, as I sad before: I know who you are. I know your name, phone number and address. Do not fuck with me. You’re not going to like how it plays out. Focus on your, probably fake, boyfriend and if you’re feeling lonely just reach deep in that deranged psyche of yours and create some new friends. Maybe one of them will even like you!
Eat a dick,