You see, I've had some bad luck with women in the past. From the ex-girlfriend who thought she was a vampire to the girl who said that my beard brushing against her skin reminded her of her uncle who used to rape her, I thought I'd had some pretty weird experiences with the opposite sex. I knew I didn't have the market on weird cornered by a longshot, but I was pretty sure that my experiences were horrible, and I felt a little bad about having endured them.
Then forum goon futhman came along and shot everything to hell. As it turns out, futhman had a wonderfully horrible experience with a girl who became amazingly obsessed with him. I'll let him tell the story below. As soon as I saw it, as soon as I read the first horrible letter, I knew I was a lucky man. No matter what I've seen, no matter what I've been through, futhman wins. This is some supremely creepy shit here, and I figure it'll make those of you who have endured insane clingy stalkers feel a little better. Just be forewarned - the first page of the letter includes pubic hair. Yes, that's right, pubic hair. If you don't mind seeing a crazy girl's pubic hair, keep reading. If you do, then really, what the hell are you doing here anyway?
Anyway, as futhman tells it...
Before I joined SA, most of my online activity used to be on the now-dead wideworldofass.com and Livejournal. While it's not necessarily completely devoid of merit (as some of you guys think), Livejournal is deserving of many of the things we accuse it of being--the most important one being that it's a seething pit for the world's unloved to congregate. I had one of those cult journals which a lot of people read at the time, and as such would have all kinds of strange interactions with people I didn't know or care to know. The strangest of these was this girl who was convinced that we were either best friends or e-lovers or both, and who would call me a dozen times a day and mail me letters (it's fairly easy to get my personal info). The problem with the incessant phone calls would be that I live with my parents, and my innocent mother thought that it was "sweet" that a girl who'd never met me would call me so much. Every now and then she would put her foot down and say that I had to talk to her.
The girl was nice enough in her own way, but she was a buttertroll who was engaged to or impregnated by some army guy in Texas and I think upon his leaving her she decided that we were soulmates. She therefore refers to my "not calling her" (ever!) as a habit that I'll be eventually cured of, and attributes a whole bunch of personality traits to me etc. I didn't mind the letters as much since I never had to open them. I did once and there were pictures of her dreams about having sex with me, which was pretty scarring. Once I stopped posting on Livejournal last year, I forgot about this episode entirely, until I found three of those letters while cleaning my desk yesterday (along with syllabi from junior year, and I just graduated, which goes to show how messy my desk was).
So here they are, scans of the letters and pictures. I'm posting the most lurid, disturbing letter here; the other two that I have are about some bizarre (non-sexual) dream she had of me and some other ADD-addled letter about life, the universe and everything. Oh, and I've done my best to remove personal information from the letters, but if there's any please don't use it in any way. That's stupid and doesn't make you king of anything.
So here's a letter...
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
Grimy horror growler Rob Zombie's scariest music videos finally ranked to warn your children.
A sign proclaiming "BACTA: DA FUTURE" marks the town's medical clinic
1998: I upload dave.pcx, and change the course of history
Set goals for yourself, and fulfill them. Absurd! Only in video games!
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