oops.

I exploded.

I really oughtn't have looked. Someone joined the tired ring I started. And I went and looked. I should have learned...every time someone (that I don't know already) joins, it's a bad scene.

But I did. And the first thing I see? She's also a part of the (stifled raging cursing here) anorexic diaryring. And the one page I glance at is all about how many FUCKING milligrams she fucking ATE today.

So. I was probably a little harsh. Especially since no one else had signed her guestbook at all. I got a little carried away.

But goddammit I am fucking RIGHT. This is what I said:

Okay. I was trying to stop myself but I can't. I found you because you joined the tired ring I made. Now: EAT SOME MOTHERFUCKING FOOD. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WITH YOU PEOPLE. I mean, fuck. Can you think of someone besides your own ass for five and a half seconds? Do you KNOW how many people in this world would fucking love to have the food you're so terrified of? you think a pound extra or so is a PROBLEM? You spoiled little fucking brat. You wanna STARVE? Go to fucking Afghanistan. Go eat dirt in those places where children are fucking dying because not only can they not get enough to eat, they're disease-ridden, irradiated, and beaten. Jesus fuck. Where do you get off? I mean, seriously. You think you have the RIGHT? In the words of Sinead O'Connor...Why don't you go home and do something USEFUL?

And I only stopped there because it was after all a guestbook.

I seem to have an awful lot of bottled up rage about these fucking teenagers driving around in mommy's SUV complaining about their fucking lives.

But I still think I'm fucking RIGHT. So. To all of you, to you anorexic bipolar ADD FAS depressed complaining little assholes:

There are people in this world, and I have known many that are really, honestly, deeply fucked. There are people who cannot afford to fucking eat. There are people whose children's eyes are dripping pus from infections and the flies feed on their open sores. There are human fucking beings who live under bridges, eating fucking rats. There are people whose fathers raped them, whose husbands beat them, whose parents abandoned them.

And you think you are ENTITLED to be UNHAPPY? Who the FUCK are you? You're so goddamn depressed, get off your scrawny, abercrombie-and-fitch-clad ASS and get it to a therapist.

Better yet, get that ass to a homeless shelter to volunteer. Or a women's clinic. Or a mental hospital. You think you're unhappy? You go fucking SEE unhappy.

You go see what fucking THIN enough REALLY looks like. What it looks like to not eat because you don't have any fucking money. You look at the bloated stomachs of the men who eat only bread because it's left out on the streets. You go see what happens to the babies, the fucking BABIES in Ethiopia after their bodies have started eating away at themselves because there ISN'T ANYTHING ELSE.

There are people in this world that have the fucking right to be depressed. They have earned it, with their blood, their sweat, their bruises, their crying hungry children.

And if you have enough to live on, enough to eat, people who love you, a home? You're not fucking one of them. If you have a chemical problem, go deal with it.

In the meantime, go outside. Look around. See the sky? The people? EVERYTHING? This is life. It is good. You are alive, you are well-fed, you have somewhere to sleep at night.

The rest of it? The rest of it is up to you.

If your life sucks, MAKE IT BETTER. If you hate yourself? Either go die and quit lying to yourself or learn to love yourself.

Jesus.

Yes, maybe I sound like some old person from back in the days before Prozac.

But this shit really makes me sick. My jaw is clenched, my hands tight, my eyes wet. Do I have sympathy? Yes, yes in fact I do, even if it sounds otherwise. I've been through the gauntlet. I've done suicide attempts, anorexia, anti-depressants, the mental ward, the whole fucking shebang. And what I learned? This is me. This is life. You little babies who want something else? You're NEVER going to get it. This is ALL there is. This is it. Love it or leave it.

THESE are the things I wish someone had said to me when I was thirteen. Maybe if I'd gotten a decent ass-kicking instead of shrinks coddling me and feeding me pills I wouldn't have wasted so many fucking years bemoaning my poor, sad, upper-middle-class white girl fate.

- onehanded