And suddenly we should all feel safe because social blogger Christopher London who knows all about social phonies, cause he writes and photos them year in year out will be stepping out of his dark room and heading towards that dark spot in Melissa’s heart.
Run Christopher run, let this not be Melissa’s last gasp, surely there must be a posthumous book deal after your metaphysical death that we all could write in spirit for you Melissa? Surely, we should call the first chapter- ‘The little girl that cried wolf?‘- I know it’s a little dramatic, but then again last Friday night was a tad dramatic too.
Please team, we must run before Melissa slips away…run. Shall we turn the next page as we delve deeper into Melissa’s soul?
And how correct is Mr London to imply that there are certain piranhas that ebb in the garb of public relations, always looking for outlets to orchestrate nefarious missions, suck the dollar bills out of their clients, play favorites between this blogger and that photographer, only because one will kiss more and on demand than the other. Never the kick backs and the behind the door deals. So much for independent journalism. The thing that we can only wonder that burns at the soul at Melissa’s heart and so many other publishers that dot the landscape.
Melissa, one day, when you are looking into the skyline over a Times Square billboard you will suddenly amongst many others see the visage of your feats protruding over din lights and you will come to know if only you had actually pulled the lever would you have finally relinquished that exasperation that all society writers must brood through.
But hark, one day, the pastures will be greener, and over the flitter flatter of oars edging their way through dark waters your torso will leap forward, past the billboards and into our collective imaginations.