I found those stories online.
The stories where you are talking about some girl named Andrea but you’re actually talking about me.
Why would you read those?
How could I not?
Well, you should know that those are composite characters. Nothing about her is really about you.
Not the part where you describe her surgical scar and it sounds just like mine? Or the time she was confiding her shittiest secrets in you and started to cry and her secrets are the same as the ones I told you? Or when she took you with her to pick up her prescription down at the CVS a block away from my house?
I can’t fucking believe you read those. This is bullshit.
Don’t worry, I’m not angry about it. Of course I understand, I create composite characters all the time. I even used you for one recently. Well just a small part of one, actually.
So which small part of the character is actually me?
Just the asshole.