Stories from Beyond the Grave

Goddamn I wish this was a post about the Crypt Keeper or something, but it isn't.
Also I'm basically procrastinating at the moment, so this entry may be shorter or longer depending on how long that lasts.
Today is a typical entitled princess posting about how awful her life is because her boyfriend said something mean to her.

I hate my life.

I was never blessed with loyal friends. I was never blessed with distractions from my depression. I will never know what it's like to be blessed with true love. I'll never be blessed with a direction or purpose. I'll never know what it's like to be happy. I'll never know what it's like to enjoy the gift of life I no longer want.

Loyalty is earned, not expected. Perhaps instead of waiting for the "blessing" of loyal friends, you should develop a personality and gain some friends.

The only thing I know is Pain, agony, loneliness, depression, chronic emptiness, and sorrow. That is all.

Sounds like me that time I ate at Bojangles.

I want to die. End of story.

Again I'm reminded of that time I ate at Bojangles.

I want to die in my sleep. I wish I could die by taking a whole bottle of asprin. I wish I had the courage to slit my wrists. I wish someone would even shoot me so it wouldn't be a suicide.

If only my life would end... everyone would be so much better off. I don't deserve to live anyway not knowing anything about life at all.

What baffles me is the last part. "I don't deserve to live anyway not knowing anything about life at all." I get the feeling there's a part of that sentence missing. I guess she thinks everyone else knows what they're doing, and she's special and unique enough to wander around clueless?

For the past couple years or so I've been having problems with this friend of mind named Drifter. We've been friends for 6 years and she was someone who I can easily get along with, brain storm, laugh, and role played. We joined character worlds and swapped art several times.

Drifter? Seriously, Drifter? I have to assume that's not what her mother calls her.
Also I see where this is going. "SHE STOLE MY BEAUTIFUL FURSONA" or "SHE STOLE MY IDEA FOR A NARUTO/HARRY POTTER FANFIC."

But then... everything just changed for the worst.

Bit by bit she became extremely critical and harsh. No matter what I did, it was never good enough for her. If I see two mistakes on my artwork, she'd see a hundred. When I made a random gift art for her that I poured my heart into, she never appreciated it.

Oh. Close enough?
I'm going to skip down a few paragraphs to be polite to you, the reader, but this goes on and on for something nearing half the lengths of one of my posts.

Then she told me that she hated my characters after months and months of working on them just to please her. I was crying for two nights over this.

Maybe they sucked?

She is just so unfair. Every time she gets critical or angry at me my fragile self esteem gets chipped away and my social anxiety gets worse. It seems as if she's determined to bring me down. As if she's determined to break me and I don't know why.
Why does she keep harassing me?

In bold is the answer to your question. You made yourself an easy target, so she breaks your balls to build herself up. I'd say "present less of a target" but that'd be too simple, wouldn't it?

That I'm going batshit insane with her negative mouth and mind? Is she jealous of me or something?

Ho ho I'm sure that's the reason. Jealousy.

There are tons of artists out there who are better than me and I'm not jealous in the least. In fact I admire them and try to learn a thing or two from them to improve my own work.

There's a sentiment I can understand. But I'd say you were lying, because if you were truly striving to improve you'd consider all criticism, no matter how harsh. No. Your mind is not devoted to getting better. It's devoted instead to holding on to whatever talent (or illusion of talent) that's there.

But you know what? After my encounter with her yesterday and the endless criticism and negativity coming out of her mouth, I want to end this friendship.

Common sense, in my blog reading? I bet she's still talking to her.

I've been also more concerned with aging, the passage of time, and the limitations of my body makes me more serious about doing what is important and essential.

Now you're just looking for shit to worry about. To me, this is the mark of an idle mind. You need a job (or another one if you already have one) or if you possess the glimmer of intelligence (if I'm writing about you, you don't) some sort of hobby or skill.

My needs for socializing, affection, and companionship has been long neglected as well.

I think I see why you have no friends. Me, me, me.

The problem is, there's no outlet or opportunity to meet new people. I live on mainstreet and it's really just a drag of bars. I don't drink and stores close too early. Why should I be out? Plus I'm afraid to go out at night.

A litany of excuses. Excuses are the refuge of a weak mind.

If only God would just give me the blessings of having people in my life.

EVEN GOD ABANDONED HER. HOW TRAGIC. I'm guessing you're some garden variety of Christian, to which I'd say: God gave his only begotten son for you, unworthy sinner, and even that's not enough. You tax friendships to their limits, don't you?
I was being facetious about the "stealing your fursona" comment earlier, but I happened upon her Deviant Art account, and she is indeed a furry:
http://midnight21.deviantart.com/
Typical furry bullshit, whatever. I wasn't actually trying to find a furry blog to comment on, but I guess if you throw a stone in internet city you'll most likely hit a furry. There are two images so hideous and foul that DA saw fit to censor them. I have to register to see them. I'm half tempted to do this so I can see what lies underneath, since there are other images not thus discriminated against, and they're basically gynoshots.
But then again that seems like a ton of effort for what can only be a female tiger being raped to death by a nineteen-dicked horse.
So I guess that's it.
What?