I wanted to call the blog Stupid Cunt but that seemed too obvious

There's a saying in theatre that comedy happens in threes.
I'm beginning to think tragedy also happens in threes.
Or at least tragecomedy because the events of late have really been less tragic and more fucktastic.
Hilarious, really.

I'm having a People Just Really Suck week which is similar to the PMS I Hate People Day only worse because my hormones have nothing to do with it.
People. Just. Really. Suck.

First I had to deal with confronting an emotional topic without getting too emotional.
You mean, when you said don't eat the chocolates and I ate them anyway that wasn't how you wanted the night to go down?
Boundary pushers make my head implode.
I'll take deal breakers for 500, please.

Then I was reminded of how obscene it is that Facebook allows whores to indirectly bitch slap me without having the demure decency to confront me with any sort of honest communication directly.
I'm sorry but when I misled you into believing you could trust me it was merely to fuel my own slanderous agenda and since you don't ski or play golf, there's really no room for you on my Facebook. De-LE-te! 

Then I came face to face with the realization today, as I was doing it yet again, that I am so foolishly trusting in offering my raw honesty with people who have no business in Resa Land.
They shouldn't even be allowed to take pictures.
Jealous sluts, move along, please.

I want people to feel included and accepted so I try and treat them the way I would any of my soul sisters and then feel ridden hard and cast aside when they're interrupting my openness with their judgment and criticism and disdain of all things Resafied.

When the fuck will I get it through my sparkly head?

You can't trust everyone.
You shouldn't trust everyone.
There are so many wonderful, kindred spirits in existence that those wanting to suck the joy out of your soul aren't worth the dialogue.

Some people do not have your best interest in mind.
They don't want you to be your genuine, authentic self.
They want you to change.
They want you to be something they can understand, something they can line up with their paper doll cut out of preconceived ideology.

I'm so over people who can't handle all I am.
I can't even imagine dating anyone again who tries to subdue the passion that is me.
But thankfully the number of soul crushing biddies pales in comparison to the number of stellar soul mates who appreciate my glitter stained mind.

Everyone else?
Can suck it.