Well, you know, it was bound to happen at some point. Some idiot on the Internet stumbled here and decided to graffiti my comments with foulness. Here is the comment:
Why is it always about you Fina? Why are you so desperate for attention that you have to try to make every situation about you, try to shock people with your language and always try to make everyone who reads this junk feel sorry for you. Sorry girlfriend. You just need to get a life, and get busy living it instead of lamenting about “poor unfortunate you” every time you get on the net. Your life is no more important that the millions of others out there, but fortunately they dont feel the need to have to bring theirs to the spotlight. You do have a problem. Its called “Poor Me Syndrome”. The only cure for it is to reach out and help others who are much worse off than you. If you do this, you may actually see how vain your life is, and what the importance of living is about.
I’m assuming this person doesn’t know me personally because, if they did, they would never have written that I need to reach out and help others who are much worse off than myself.
I’ll also assume that they haven’t taken any amount of time to read through the archives.
And, if they have, I’ll say that anyone who thinks I should shrug off what I’ve been through is, clearly, ignorant.
Finally, I’ll say this:
Dear friend who used a fake email address to write an anonymous comment on my blog. Your first mistake was asking why my life is more important than anyone else’s. Obviously, it’s not. I’ve never said that. You’re more than welcome to walk away from my blog and never come back. Unfortunately you chose to comment. So now here is what I have to say to you:
You’re on my blog. It’s my release. My escape. A virtual hide-a-way. I didn’t personally invite you here. And, quite frankly, if I want to talk about loving cheese pizza I can do that. Unfortunately that’s not the biggest of my worries. Unfortunately, I’m dealing with things that I dare not wish upon anyone else. If you’re sick of hearing me talk about the issues that are most important to me, forget I exist and move along. Oh, and for the record, PTSD is a disorder. I’m living with it. That’s what’s wrong with me.
Next time you want to judge someone else, take a few minutes to get to know them. I’ve laid it all out for you to do that. Did you take that opportunity? No, probably not.
My one true gift in life is giving to others. And if your goal was to offend me, your ignorance to my duty and work did just that. As an educator, I feel it’s absolutely vital that you know all of the facts before you judge someone else. Clearly, this lesson didn’t sink in during your schooling. I’m so sorry that happened to you.
Haters Gon’ Hate.