In the past, folks passing around partial fibs and full blown fairy tales about me would’ve completely jacked my anxiety into the ionosphere. The recent authors of gossip have tapped into some brilliantly creative fables, such as I revel in crossdressing while murdering kittens with ice bullets fired from a titanium space rifle, all the way to attempting to have fellow peers kill themselves from my lofty Tibetan monastery perch using only the power of my murderous mind. Lots of murder in there as it happens.
Folks gossiping about me is a good thing I’ve decided. Gossip is a wonderful way for people who adore me to gather and converse about everything me when I’m not available to gather with them myself and converse about everything me.
I love you guys.
Anxiety? None! I’ve got mad anti-trigger skillz, the most important being expert at laughing off horrible stuff to where it’s not horrible anymore. Bonus.
I do cop to the crossdressing. That breathable cotton liner feels like a little bit of heaven softly hugging and caressing my package like the fluttering tongue of a wayward angel. Bonus.