Confessions of an Internet Troll

Dear Diary,

I know it was only yesterday that I wrote to you but I’m really struggling with this addiction. I promised myself this morning that I wouldn’t do it again. I couldn’t help myself. FFS. Today will be the last day, I promise.

Guess who I saw today outside my bedroom window this afternoon? Jack. Yeah, Jack Mitchell. I felt like jumping out my window and fu**ing him up. The pain and torment he put me through as a child was unbearable. I still remember coming home from school and crying. My mum could hardly console me, I mean, how could she? I was suicidal. Bloody bully. I should have killed him and ended the bullying once and for all. Yeah, that’s right – in the same way he mentally tortured me, I should have physically tortured him: cut him into little pieces, like him cut me up inside.

Oh, guess what? It’s been one year today since I cut my contract with them. I should bloody expose them for what they do. When the intelligence service first approached me, I was probably the biggest, baddest troll on the Internet, baby. I could go two whole days without sleep, just commenting: YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, but my favourite was The Guardian. I use to comment on the odd article on Islam, but they told me I had to search and wait for anything on Islam to come out and comment on it. While I was at it, I thought I would have a quick bash at anything that came out about Christianity. Those were the good old days, I caused so much mischief, friction and arguments between all these stupid, religious people. I mean, if these organised religions were true, why are their followers so easily wound up by what I say? These religious people are hypocrites. They’re suppose to be all holy, yet they come at me and start swearing and come down to the same level that I went. Ha, idiots.

But like I was saying, I need to stop all this. I need to get myself a job, seriously. Living off my mum isn’t good. I should become a columnist, actually. Why don’t The Guardian hire me? I always see all these articles and I’m thinking, these columnists don’t even know what they are talking about. I’m much better than them. I bet I’ve read more books than any of them – my vocabulary is insane. It’s probably better than Will Self’s. If I did get hired by The Guardian I reckon my friend would be jealous of me. Gareth, or should I say FreeThinker1, would probably troll on me!

Okay, tomorrow is a new day. No more commenting. I’m going to go out into this cold, cruel and callous world, a world where there is no love. Perhaps, I’ll find love



This blog should not be read on face value, look at the italicised words to comprehend the inner meanings.

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