Yesterday at 5:04 p.m. I was in the middle of a timely reporting project for my boss. Thinking I was never going to leave the office and make it to my “Absolution” class, I wasn’t in great spirits. That said, you can imagine the groan I let out upon hearing the email noise permeate through my Mac’s speakers.
“What now”, I said through a sigh so dramatic you’d think it was my third take. To my excitement, it was a notification that someone left a comment on my blog.
“Yasss!” I thought to myself. It was great to see someone engaging with my poor, neglected blog, as I hardly have the time or energy to update it enough, and haven’t really been churning out compelling content as of late.
When I opened the email my heart dropped into my stomach straight Tower of Terror style and I felt my pulse climb to an Orange Theory class rate.
The comment was left by someone named Oliver, a name I haven’t read in months. A name that, apparently, still holds enough merit to misalign my major organs yet again.
I tried to regain cognitive composure enough to read the comment:
“Step right up folks, watch a walmart brand Sarah Michelle Gellar try to repress her insecurities by using dating apps to chase the feeling of superiority that comes with rejecting someone without going through the hassle of actually dating them. Watch her try to bolster her web presence with screenshots of her conversations that make light of mental illness and alcoholism while trying to guess how many venereal diseases she’s got under her belt.”
Pretty nasty, huh? Upon initial digestion, I spent way too much time fixated on the Sarah Michelle Gellar line. She’s been irrelevant for nearly a decade now, so that comparison was sort of out of left field, but then again I guess so was the whole mental illness, alcoholism, gonorrhea implication thing…
Suffice to say, it was a scathing comment. Whoever had written this had a real distaste for me, and also a really good creative writing professor.. ( I mean, shy of a few run-ons it’s so well-written I almost thought it was me publicly roasting myself).
But what’s a mean comment now and then? It’s what we should anticipate, right? As people who openly display their emotions and their habits to the public, one should anticipate random internet trolls, or immature prudes or jealous women commenting nasty and scathing things. It’s just the name of the game. Right?
But what was so unique about this random, long-form insult, was that it didn’t come from any internet troll. No, this display of apparent hatred came from someone with true malicious intent.
What makes me say that?
Well, for starters, whoever this was left the comment under the username Oliver, the name of my ex that I was openly and poetically heartbroken over for nearly a full calendar year. Secondly, this truly bored and sad being left the comment from the gmail account “email@example.com“. He or she clearly forgot the “e”, but it’s not an accident that their email address is “I love”, and then my last name/ Instagram name.
This individual made this email address displaying “love” for me, just to leave a comment that portrays something more than opposite.
I should applaud this person for the amount of effort they put into this act of hate.. I feel sort of flattered that he or she knows enough about me to be so inclined to make the username something so upsetting, and the email address something so disturbing.
To whoever you are, and I can address you directly because you clearly read my blog, (and I imagine over, and over again), I’m afraid to report to you that your act of maliciousness had probably the most opposite effect.
After I spoke out about what was devised and written for me to see, the inpouring of support and anti-hate that came in was enough to reverse the effects of your eloquent insults, and then some.
Maybe you didn’t care at all how you affected me. Maybe you were just bored, or did it on a whim. Whatever your intention, I’m appreciative of your comment because it gave me the fuel I needed to propel forward, continue sharing my experiences, and continue writing.
Because what’s writing if you think no one reads, and you think you’re irrelevant? Thank you, from the one genuine bone in my body, thank you, for proving to me that, at least to you, I couldn’t be farther from it.