2003-08-08 - 9:58 a.m.
Dear Ms Miserable,
Really. Do you have to talk to me like that? When you're having a bad day [aren't you EVERY day?] there is no need to take it out on me.
Your life is miserable. I know it. Everyone knows it. You are old now and you don't have much to show for all your years. You don't know what true happiness is. And I doubt you ever will. It's left you bitter. Old and bitter.
You think by talking baby talk and gabbing on to people about your husband and such that people are really gonna start believing that your happy. You may even believe it yourself.
But I know the truth.
I know that the reason you use horrible tones with people and snap on a dime is because of your pathetic excuse for a life. Harsh, I know, but true. I see you on a daily basis and every time I see you, I feel sick. I used to try to get along with you and I used to try to act like I cared when you took sympathy from someone else's misfortune, but now, you just make me sick.
You talk so much shit you are knee deep in it. You make smart ass comments about people without even knowing them. You tell people how to live their lives, when you have nothing to show for your own. You tell people how to raise their children, without having some of your own. You tell people what they should wear. Really, are you in the place to be handing out advise? Yeah, AND be surprised when people don't take it?
Love,
Leslie
