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Death to the Dragon Man


Her epic performance was met with… silence. This woman made a five minute marriage proposal video (seven, actually, but who’s counting?)

He didn’t talk to her for eons. So, she decided to enter the dragon’s cave, uninvited. She sent her spirit walking across the ocean to the United Kingdom, to his very door step. His anger was palpable. He was beyond livid about everything. She messed it all up just because it wasn’t Christmas time they’d meet. Again. Forget that she was actively dying and that’s the reason!

Dear Sir Deli Man, would you hold it against her yourself? Can you forgive her for being mostly dead and therefore unable to figure out what to utter at you as you lost your mind checking in on the soups right next to her? Would you forgive her for seeking to look you in the eyes for permission to speak to you? For being autistic, and therefore, unable to function like a normal woman? Will you? I think you will, but you’ve been my horse since the beginning.

Crystal is autistic, folks! She doesn’t “get” flirting. If you ever flirted with her and thought it was going spectacularly and then she didn’t follow up in a way that made you feel special… she didn’t know you were flirting. You have to literally tell her that you like her, in those words. If you’ve known her and she told you she liked you, she was flirting. You didn’t think so, though, did you, boys? No, never.

The word like isn’t strong enough for flirting. You’re supposed to imply it and dance around in circles ad nauseam. She’ll take a pass, thank you; she has projects to work on. She has auterspace thoughts to have like “What is the square root of ketchup?” It’s a question with no real answer, of course, but bonus points if you try to make one up anyway. Take your time, we have all eternity.

This woman makes movies in her head to relate how she feels about life to herself in the most epic way so that she can remember the story of her life and feel like a hero. You should feel really lucky if she wants to add you to her Most Excellent Adventure. But this “man” in England? Well, he’s not a man. He’s definitely not a dragon. He’s a whelp. A whiny one at that whose mother does his laundry for him at his age of … is it 36? I dunno, old enough to do his own laundry, since I’ve been doing mine since I turned 11, she figures.

Instead, he’s mad at her for not telling him everything in real time. For keeping her love to herself for a decade until it became concentrated into a ray of healing light that begged to be unleashed from inside of her. It was her final living act: telling the man she loved him. She fell apart when it became apparent he ghosted her.

What a douche bag!

He refuses to love my loveliest creation in all the cosmos. Why? Because she didn’t want to meet him for Christmas 2021. That’s what he thinks. He was trying to talk food at her when she couldn’t eat, my friends. She was eating two apples and two pears a day if she was lucky. Even that hurt her insides to consume. Everything felt like sandpaper passing through her guts. You’re not supposed to feel food moving inside you. She did. Every bite.

She told her doctor she was in pain. Just like that. “Doctor, I’m in pain.” Obviously, she’s fishing for painkillers, right? She’s not crying, she’s not in extreme duress on my exam table. She can’t actually be in any exceptional pain. What does she want from me?

A solution, for one thing, Dr. Gelhot. A FUCKING SOLUTION. She asked you for an allergy test so she could figure out what foods to avoid eating so she could get better, but you couldn’t even get off your fucking ass to refer her so her insurance would pay for it, could you? No. And then, when she presented extreme difficulties breathing, you wanted to prescribe her an inhaler instead of taking her word for it that it was related to food. You should die now, vile bitch, before I take you to court for everything you’re worth. FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER.

Fuck all doctors everywhere! None of you are healers. You want a healer? Go to a chiropractor & acupuncturist and a therapist with an IMAET machine. (Thank you, Dr. Steve Vandenhoek & Dr. Dawn McFarland. You kept me alive despite Dr. Death’s best attempts to kill me.)


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