So, someone spent a good fifteen pages of their tumblr calling me all varieties of insults and clarifying why *exactly* I’m a disingenuous cunt.

Craftsmate tells me not to touch it, but I always have this knee-jerk reaction that I need to set things right always. And so I drafted an apology, read it a bunch, sent it off.

After repeated posts demanding an apology, I make one. I was sincere, but I’m met with the statement that – after this person demanded I apologize – they didn’t want to receive a message from me.

There was also an assumption that I already knew their condition, which, ugh, I didn’t. And, oh, you know, that I’m only concerned with my image. Which, meh, I am really only to the extent that I don’t lose a job in the future because my butt’s all over the Internet or that I don’t somehow disgrace my parents doing whatever.

Ever since I was younger, I’ve never wanted anyone to be angry with me. The notion of a person being upset with me, regardless of how close they are to me, to this day, makes me physically nauseous. Like horribly, terribly sick. 

But I’m throwing in the towel on this one, asking everyone not to harass the person in question and realizing sometimes things cannot reach clean conclusions.

Deep breath.