hey stephen, thanks so much for leaving, i'm so glad we didn't stay the same

Dear Stephen,

I really should be over you. In fact, if you knew how much your existence bothers me, you would probably be amused. And your ego would grow bigger and bigger and bigger...as it has a talent for doing. In fact, that's the only talent you have. Stephen and the amazing growing ego. It should be a book.

For the record, one of the most annoying things about you is your Twitter. No one cares that you have your own action figure @ Wal Mart. No one cares that you hate traffic, you love Los Angeles, and that your muscles (like your ego) grow bigger every day. No one cares that you bought a v-neck, go running, or make your own YouTube videos. Millions of more attractive people do these same things everyday. Just because your hair is curly and you have been in two extremely bad movies does not mean you are amazing.

For the record, you being in two movies and on a ridiculous Nickelodeon show that no one with brains would watch does not qualify you as a star. You are not a star. *Repeat Repeat REPEAT* Just because you have been badly playing guitar for five years also does not qualify you as a musician/rock star/talented. Just because you have "friends" does not mean you are popular. Just because you have abs does not mean you are an Abercrombie model. Just because I am taking the time to write this does not mean I am desperate.

For the record, I have no reason to be bitter at you. I have no reason to hate you. But somehow, I still do. Somehow you manage to be incredibly annoying, even though you're miles away. Okay, your not really. But you might as well be. I'm convinced you paid you fan club members to join. I'm also convinced that secretly your life really sucks. I'm convinced you write your own comments on IMDB.

For the record, yes I was kind of a stalker. Desperate, maybe. Creepy, crazy, not incredibly attractive, sociable, or entertaining. I know. I didn't know it at thirteen. But thanks for letting me know.

For the record, some day, in some future moment, we will meet again. I will look fabulous and be making more money than you and hanging on the arm of someone much, much better than you. And I will be wearing Christian Loubutins and you will look shorter than ever. (Not even growing out your ugly afro will help) I will be drinking coffee and I will exude fabulousness. Secretly, I've always been more fabulous than you. I just didn't show it.

Love you. Not.


PS: Oh, by the way, congratulations. I'm not to bitter to say congratulations on attending the College Road Trip premier. Goodness. You really are in the in-crowd now, eh babe?