Hi! My name is Anna, "You'd really like me if you got to know me. I've known me for years and I love me."
No more. I can't. Why am I doing it to myself?
Fuck you! Fuck the author for writing it. Fuck her friends and family for not hitting her over the head when they saw what she was doing. Fuck her teachers, because they didn't do their fucking job. Fuck all that think that having a computer makes you a writer. Fuck those that allow this nonsense to spread. Fuck the publisher. Fuck his family. Fuck the stupid people that gave that book anything other than the lowest possible rating. Fuck this new horrible trend. Fuck lack of common sense. Fuck the horrible punctuation that no one bothered to correct. Fuck this pseudo grammar. Fuck bookstors that ordered it. Fuck all the metaphors that don't make any sense. Fuck all the 'sex' clenching. Fuck this 'eel' girl with 'watery thighs'. Fuck stupid horny nonsense. Fuck an absolute lack of any, ANY story. Fuck every torturous minute of this shitfest. Fuck you all for plummeting standards in society. Fuck people that dare to call it a book. Fuck every single page. Fuck every single monstrosity that I wouldn't even dare to call a sentence. Fuck the absolute disconnection from reality. Fuck logic while we're at it (because it should breed and spread, and it doesn't). Fuck a ten feet pole with which I wouldn't want to touch that thing. Fuck the torturous of writing. Fuck the dying literature. Fuck any pretence of it being 'all right'. Fuck people that say it's not a big deal. And, above all, fuck me for reading it.
I honestly don't know if I'll be able to finish it. if not: