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You Deserve Whatever You Get: Hornets' Nest"Why do you provoke them? Why slap the hornets' nest?", you said condescendingly.
I don't deserve to have places where I vent on the internet suddenly become the domain of others.
I don't deserve to now be afraid that some poorly written poem or crazy story I post on an art site, where I go for cathartic release, to fuel some sick retribution - by a gang of internet bullies who think other people's lives are theirs to play games with - against those I care about.
I don't deserve to fear for the safety of my partner and her child because of a comment - pointing out the limited view and/or hypocrisy of an authoritarian - that I made on an internet newspaper site.
I've done nothing to deserve having my life invaded and the personal information of those I love exposed to gods only know who.
I don't deserve to have my freedom to express myself stripped away like this.
You Deserve Whatever You GetWith a coldness in your voice that cut as deep as the words, you said, "You deserve whatever you get!" I beg to differ.
I didn't deserve to have every e-mail address I've ever had hacked in the last year.
I didn't deserve to have my phone - that I depend on for calls from work - cloned.
I didn't deserve the loss of thousands of dollars of work that stemmed from that cloning.
I didn't deserve being labeled unreliable by employment contacts because I didn't answer or return phone calls that I didn't find out until weeks later that I'd missed.
I didn't deserve to have my struggling small business crushed in that manner.
Nor did I deserve to have hundreds of dollars worth of my equipment stolen because some miscreants decided "It's Adventure Time!".
When I disagreed with your heartless statement, I didn't deserve your hateful response, "You always have to be right!" because you know it's a damned lie.
I've not deserved the distrust and disrespect that I've been repeatedly shown by so
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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