Dear Yuki-Onna.
What youâre doing is completely fine. Thereâs a thing called rape fantasy and itâs completely healthy.
I searched it and the psychology reports say itâs the womanâs way to gain control and surrender. Itâs also related to masochism, wide imagination, and a broad range of BDSM.
It can also be something someone with sexual trauma is interested in because it gives them control over a situation similar to one from their past where they couldnât.
So itâs completely healthy. You should do what makes you happy.
Is that what you hoped Iâd write back? Is that what you had in mind when you sat down and wrote me your version of a twisted sob story?
I donât even know what you were trying to accomplish when you said that. Just what on earth are you thinking? You and whoever is indulging in this sick arrangement are perverted.
And spare me the bullshit of how this isnât about you or that this is a hypothetical situation. Iâve known you for three years and you canât lie for shit.
Iâve been meaning to confront you about your issues for a while, but I might as well do it now. Itâs long overdue.
When you said you have friends, I call bullshit. Itâs simple really and doesnât take a lot of mental work to figure it out. If you had any friends, you wouldnât be talking to some random stranger from the other side of the globe. Youâre lonely and itâs not even cute or quirky. Itâs your choice, so stick with it and stop bleeding my ears (or more accurately, my eyes) with nonsense about how people donât understand you.
Do you even understand people? Yeah, you donât. Because you donât care enough about anyone other than yourself.
Here are some facts, Naomi. Youâre selfish. I donât know what happened to make you that way or if it just runs in your genes, but you have issues.
Every time you write to me, all you do is talk about yourself and think youâre funny because youâre naturally sarcastic about everythingâyourself included.
When you say you hate men, I want to reach my eyeballs and gouge them out. You donât hate men. If you did, you wouldâve veered in the other direction or in no direction at all, but you watch porn.
Straight porn.
Hardcore straight porn.
And donât even try to deny it, because I donât believe asking for recommendations of my favorite sites every other month is a coincidence.
So, no, you donât hate men. You just hate your inferiority complex. You hate that you canât muster the courage to start a conversation or to lose the resting bitch face long enough for someone to approach you.
Youâve taken the word introvert to a whole different level and turned it into a hostile situation that you canât escape anymore.
Your love for true crime and serial killers donât make you edgy or smart, it just makes you cynical about every life situation.
So basically, even your hobbies are a method to veer you away from society and make you suspicious about everything in your surroundings.
Including your own mother. The woman you said immigrated, gave birth, and raised you all on her own.
You say your mother is always absent and doesnât have time for you. But what do you do when she makes a dent in her schedule for your sake? Youâre too uncomfortable to spend time alone with her anymore because you still hold a grudge against her.
Now, you didnât tell me what type of grudge it is. Hell, you didnât even mention that word. But Iâm not an idiot. I know thereâs bad blood between you two and youâre just taking it out on her.
You say you hate the cheer squad and the cheerleaders, but you mirror their nasty behavior the entire time. And deep down, you admire your captain because sheâs everything you arenât. You curse her any chance you get, but youâre in awe of how comfortable she is in her own skin.
Which canât be said about you.
Not only do you hate yourself, but youâre also sometimes out to destroy yourself.
And your latest method for that is some sort of fetish about being chased and eventually caught, then raped. In what world would anyone consider that normal?
The fact that you want it in the first place should be a red alert.
Stop.
Go to a shrink and get some help.
Because youâre just spiraling out of control at this point. And soon enough, youâll get bored of this fetish and destroy yourself by using another method.
What will it be next? Alcohol? Drugs? Prostitution?
Maybe youâll end up in one of those psyche wards eating your own shit.
Oh, Iâm sorry. Did that hurt?
I donât care. I didnât start writing to you so Iâd be the only audience for your pity parties or attempts to make yourself feel more grandiose than you really are.
This is me, true and unfiltered, and this is how Iâm going to be from now on. Iâm done playing nice and pretending that I approve of the shitty decisions you make.
From now on, youâll get a reality check from me.
If you hate it, I donât give a fuck. Donât write back.
But Iâll continue writing. Donât read my letters if that bruises your fragile ego, but Iâll keep them coming.
Go complain at customs.
Seriously. I have zero fucks to give at this point. Going forward, weâll do it my way.
P.S. This is my actual personality. All the previous letters were me playing it down and being nice. Iâve had a wake-up call lately and realized I was always a bastard, so itâs pointless to pretend Iâm someone Iâm not.
Until next time, Yuki-Onna.
Love (but not really),
Akira