In which the Universe can eat a dick because I can’t.

Dear Universe,

I realize your goal in screwing up my non-romantic world this week may be to make me realize I should stop thinking so much about men.

But the joke’s on you, Asshole — all I want is to have the men hug me, or alternately have them fuck the holy hell out of me so I can feel something else besides sad. And then I realize no one wants to do those things, and it makes me sadder. So you? Can go fuck yourself.

No love,

P.S. Yeah, yeah, I’ll learn that I’m stronger than I think and can get by with a little help from my friends and all that happy horseshit. FINE. You’re still an asshole.

P.P.M.S. It’s possible this may be hormone-driven.

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