Jack Stromfield

Oh no… they want me to leave Second Life?
What a tragedy.
Should I cry in a corner… or just go hunt another linden?
I live on my own terms.
I blast music like I’m the DJ of my own universe.
I read books they don’t understand.
I paint without anyone asking, “What’s it supposed to be?”
I garden — because at least plants don’t whine.
They whisper about me.
How cute.
As if their opinion is some kind of VIP pass to my life.
I’m not here to be liked.
I’m here to do whatever the hell I want.
And if that means trampling their group rules?
I’ll do it with style.
My time is mine.
My choices are mine.
My middle finger? That one’s just for them.
So yes, I’m unwanted.
And that’s exactly how I like it.