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SCENE: Anne is in her bedroom.
Anne: I literally have no words.
Anne: Ahh! Just kidding. I actually have plenty of words. Along with quite a few expressions, comments and remarks to add to the initial words.
Mrs Rachel Lynde is a horrid, detestable, unfeeling woman. She has a Twitter account where she posts knitting patterns and makes snarky comments and gossips about others and I followed her because it was all fairly amusing, and what else do I have to do with my time besides the Internet? Knit scarves and gossip?
But a few days after her visit, she posts this slanderous tweet about me, as if I wouldn't know who it was about! Like I'm some ignorant child who wouldn't recognise a slap in the face if I'm not ... if I'm not tagged! I was born into what most people call the [makes air quotes] 'Internet Generation', or something of that nature, Rachel.
[consults her phone] Ah, here it is. And I quote, 'I'm sure foster care forms don't have a box for preference on looks.' And a little later: 'My cousin was born a redhead, too. She lives far away, thank goodness.' Yeah! Honestly! How dare she say those things about me! She might as well have told me that I was scrawny and freckly and ugly and ... too ginger! Instead, she hides behind some picture of a cat on the Internet.
I actually hate her and her self-righteous attitude and the way she looks down her nose at everyone she meets. Have you seen some of the things she posts on Twitter? How would she like it if people said things like that about her, eh? What if I went on Twitter and said that she was a gossipy nag and that she was morbidly obese and it doesn't take any sort of imagination to follow a stupid knitting pattern, anyways! Her feelings would probably be just as wounded as mine! I wish I could say those things to her on Twitter or to her face. Oh, I hate her so much! Who gave her the right?
Unfortunately, I'm seventeen years old. And despite the fact that Rachel Lynde doesn't understand how a grown woman should behave online, I'm not going to stoop to her level. I won't be like her. I suppose I should do the mature thing and focus on something else and not get so riled up. Ahh! But I'm so angry! I can't stop thinking about it. If she sees me like that, what if everyone else sees me like that? Oh, I can't bear to think that everyone in Avonlea would see me as a scrawly, freckled little twit.
I'm going to go meditate or drink some tea or something. Please send positive thoughts for my sanity. Or, send scathing tweets to @rachellynde on Twitter. Not that I'd recommend that kind of behaviour. I'm just simply pointing it out as an option. Anne Shirley, out. [reaches for the camera]
Oh! P.S. I started school and met a few other detestable people as well. I'll tell you about it later.