Crazy Bitch: Entry Two
An insane ex-girlfriend. A journal found. Published here and dissected by Jon for your enjoyment. Welcome back, friends, to “Diary Of A Crazy Bitch.”
July 18th –
“Last week I saw some trashy bitch flirting with Jon at his apartment complex pool. She was wearing a cheap crocheted bathing suit from Target. It doesn’t matter how good your body is if you dress like fucking trash. I felt like getting in her face but I didn’t want her to see me mad. I recognized her. She lives a few doors down across the parking lot. She’s always hanging around and walking her stupid yappy little dog–mutt–that she clearly got at the pound. Stupid bitch. I watched her apartment for a few days until she came home really drunk after midnight. I waited until her lights were out and then walked over and slashed all her tires with Jon’s knife. I thought about using some of her dog’s shit to smear BITCH on the windshield, but instead I keyed it across her hood. The cunt probably thinks she pissed someone off while she was drunk. Why do people make me do these things!? Ugh, whatever.”
– Here we have a brief glimpse into the mind of a woman whose warped sense of justice is fueled by an unquenchable desire for revenge. Her thought process – and the resulting actions – can be perfectly summed up by her question “Why do people make me do these things?” By asking this she has clearly established her victimhood, ever-so-conveniently absolving herself of personal responsibility. At that point she can seriously indulge her fabricated version of reality, in which women wearing inexpensive bathing suits deserve to have their property destroyed as a consequence of having engaged in a minute-long poolside conversation with someone’s boyfriend. In this backward world of her creation, slashing tires in the middle of the night is seen as a testament to good character. Carving “BITCH” into a hood is wholly justified, because, after all, the woman’s noisy dog is from “the pound.” There is, in her mind, no moral ambiguity. No nagging conscience. It’s clear-cut, well-deserved revenge. And that’s fucked up.