Letter to a Perv Stalker from a Cancer Survivor Who Wants to Feed His Genitalia to a Cage Full of Angry Pitbulls

Dear Jackass Scum-eating Perv(s),

Here's what I have to say to you. Assholes like you bank on the fact that oftentimes, your victims/subjects will become paralyzed with fear, repulsion, and shame and not say anything about all the violations you have engaged in using their names and images. You get off on this god-like power of creating a fantasy world that other people get off on--a cycle that feeds your pathetic ego. And now, you've gone the extra step and linked this sick fantasy that you created about me to my real world and words. What the fuck are you trying to do? But more importantly, do you even have a clue as to whom you're fucking with? I don't think you do, jerk-off.

I'm calling you out, motherfucker. You want to take my pictures and create these stories about me--obviously, it's difficult to stop you, as I found out. But I will find out who the fuck you are. And when I do, maybe you won't think this game has been worth it when your ass is in jail and you're having things done to you that you write I want done to me. Lube up, motherfucker.

I have a ton of friends who are more than willing to help me track your ass down and take the steps necessary to prosecute you. This world would be better off with one less sexual predator trolling the internet and the streets.

So yeah, keep fucking with me. It'll make it even sweeter when the day comes when I can mail you your balls and miniscule penis in a ziploc sandwich bag.

What's this have to do with cancer, you might ask. This is what: I've dealt with a lot of shit in my life, and thanks to cancer, there's little I fear anymore, including you, you pathetic sonofabitch. You might have picked on someone who was dying, but because of that, I'm living more than ever now. And honestly, that really fucking sucks for you.

Brandy