That Was Beautiful… In a Serial Killer Kind of Way

Recently, during my most impossible bout of insomnia, I decided to do what I normally do in times of insomnia.

  1. Internet, usually Gaia online playing stupid games and trolling the forums
  2. Rereading blog entries from Cursitivity and Hacker. Ninja. Hooker. Spy. (they are my blog crushes, but don’t tell them)
  3. Doing things that gave me bad ideas from said blogs

Since Cursivity wasn’t really giving me any ideas to troll people or find any blogging gold at that exact moment (Sorry Maurna, maybe next time :P), HNHS did not disappoint.

I’ve read this same entry from Aussa on several occasions, mostly talking about the other folder on facebook.  This particular post, the fact that the guy said she was worth ten goats, just rustles my jimmies in the best way.

My jimmies are sufficiently rustled.

My jimmies are sufficiently rustled.

I went through this folder before and found messages from old friends from high school who had been trying to contact me for a while, and I felt awful because I couldn’t remember who these ladies were.  Then I remembered and I was extremely excited to be talking to these people for the first time in 6+ years.

But I decided to go back to around 2010, and I found this horrifically creepy message.

I should probably explain this back story.

Back when AIM was cool, I would meet random people in chat rooms.  Probably not the brightest idea, but I’ve met some really cool people this way.  Hell, I technically met my husband on Plenty of Fish, but that’s a story for another time.

Anyway, I was living in Alaska and this guy was talking about moving to Alaska, and via text box, I was convinced he was my long lost soul mate.

Then I skyped with him.

This is why Skype is amazing, it lets you hear their voice and get a better idea about the creepy factor.

This guy was living at home with his parents at age 23, he didn’t have a job because he lied for his friend and was clocking his friend in an hour before the guy would actually show up to work, blamed the company for requiring someone to be on time to work, wasn’t going to school at all, and was just… Oh, whiney?

The bottom line about this whole thing was that he wasn’t my prince charming.  In fact, the internet tricked me into deluding myself into thinking that this guy across the country might be perfect because I knew little to nothing about him.  Ah, the dangers of the internet.  So, after the fateful skype call, I blocked him.

I realized I was friends with him on Facebook, so I deleted him on there as well.  But I did not block.

I never heard from him again… or so I thought.

Fast forward to last week, after reading 50+ posts between HSNS and Cursivity, when I decide to go through my other folder again.

This guy, shortly after I deleted him, sent me this message.

This is the face off to my own thoughts of what I’ve lost.  Reflection of yearning that lead to my demise is now this dreaded feeling I despise.  Could I have made this mistake while I looked you in the eyes?  This is my current anchored haze, as my mind is set astray.  Sanity.

This pristine pain is a mask of lost love that I’ve sustained.  It’s a mark of courage for the minutes of discourage.  It’s this tender embrace, just like the feel of your hand gently gliding across my face to cause this mass appeal.

This possession of mine is hastily plundered by the greedy hands of time.  These memories confine my being to a lonely mind.  Grudged thoughts are branded to my heart; where pain has wasted not.  Between dusk and dawn I face off against my thoughts.  To the reflection off my demise brought on by this disguise.  Sanity was all part of my mask of lies.

This rush, this subtle pain is overwhelming as it floods my brain.  The clock keeps ticking but the world around me keeps in a stance as I wait, hoping for a bit of promise for you and me.


Beautifully written… but it came off as serial-killerish to me.  He had never even met me in person.  Ever.

Naturally, I do the first thing that comes to mind.

I totally and completely spam Aussa’s facebook page.  Because that’s the obvious thing to do, right?

I kind of do this more than I should, and I’m sure that in her private study, whenever I message her about horribly awkward situations and telling her my embarrassing moments that I can never post on my blog because my mom and grandma read this, I’m sure she’s thinking, “Jesus, is this girl ever going to stop being so annoying and weird?”  But she’s far too nice to say anything, so I just roll with it.

So when I spammed the hell out of Aussa’s facebook, we were in a debate as to who had the creepiest message—my serial killer message, or her ten goat message.

She and I did come to a consensus that the Facebook other folder is blogging gold though.

Which is why I love the blogging community.

So, internets, should I respond to the four year old email that is just creepy as all get out? What are your thoughts?  Let me know in the comments!


I also want to thank Aussa and Maurna for letting me mention their blogs in this post.  I’m not doing it for the publicity of being attached to their blogs… I swear…

17 thoughts on “That Was Beautiful… In a Serial Killer Kind of Way

  1. I don’t know if being attached to my blog will help you in the blogging community. But I am still so flattered to be romantically linked to Aussa, even by proxy.


    But first: Can he find you? (meaning kill you?)

    But also: You have a military husband! And you can be vicious as well, I’m sure! And you have like 9 (or two) dogs!

    Do it, do it, do it….

    • The thing is, it’s very likely that he could find me. He knows that I’m in the Shreveport area and honestly, it’s not hard to find me. I have a very distinct voice that everyone recognizes. It really contrasts with my face and body— I sound like a really high pitched cheerleader.

      I think it best to not risk it.

      Also, Alex told me not to.

  3. I actually read that post of Aussa’s about the Facebook other folder and never followed through by checking mine! I did today and I had a message in there from an old ex-boyfriend (I call him “The Dancer” on my blog). I learned he is now a convicted sex offender — so that was fun.

  4. Oh yea…he should remain distant blogging gold for sure.

    Not only did I get the creepy vibe from the whole thing but there was a nice undertone of self loathing with no sense of personal responsibility.

    Surely a great mix that invites disaster!?!

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