
Pretty much everything genuine is superior to fake.

Pretty much everything genuine is superior to fake.

…and it shows.

I wonder: if someone could time-travel and approach Psycho when she was still young, and describe to her how she would be in her mid-50s, what steps would she take to avoid the atomic fumbles that led to such a monstrous downward spiral?
Let’s take an inventory. As of today, Psycho:
I suspect that, even faced with such an unpalatable future, Psycho would simply continue marching on the exact same path, making the exact same cataclysmic choices. Her insufferable ego would not allow her to accept truth back then any more than she does now. Improving herself is not even on the table. Why bother, when she can simply lie outlandishly about everything, throw raging tantrums if someone refuses to swallow her fairy tales, and pout if Daddy doesn’t bail her out when she inevitably fucks up again?
The saddest part to me is her obstinate refusal to make any attempt, of any kind, to elevate herself. Lack of growth, evolution, or progress is far worse than stagnation– it is demise. It’s unnatural. Life, at heart, consists of change and learning and adapting. Rooting herself in the same bitter, sour spot, year after year, dry-rotting in place, has entombed her in her own toxic futility and musty worthlessness.
If Psycho can be anything positive, then let it be an example and a warning to us: to move on, to learn, to be self-aware, to commit to self-improvement and truth. Because one thing she has demonstrated, beyond any doubt, is that jealously fixating on the lives of others will siphon the meaning, joy, and growth out of your own, until you are left with no life at all.
But don’t worry, Psycho. Just keep on lying. Keep shamelessly riding the coattails of the kids’ accomplishments because you don’t have any of your own. Keep editing your pictures into comedic, ridiculous oblivion. Keep hijacking the kids’ accounts to pore over my Facebook page and fantasize your way into a life you can never have. Keep slobbering over me online, every single day, because we both know why you are infatuated with me. Keep on failing like it’s your job. Keep pretending your entire hick town isn’t laughing at you. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing for decades.
Delusion is all you have left, so cling like hell to it. I mean, at this point, your life surely can’t get much more pitiful…can it?




I agree, wholeheartedly. Love is everything. Without it, honestly, what do you really have?


