I value feedback, especially from people I respect. Recently, I was told that certain words or tones on this site might not sit well with every reader. That’s a fair observation.
After reflecting on it, I made a change. Two words were redacted. You'll now see [REDACTED] instead. This wasn’t an apology. It was a compromise, done not out of shame, but because I’m capable of meeting people halfway without sacrificing who I am.
I’ve heard that jokes like calling someone a [REDACTED] are juvenile or lacking sophistication. I disagree. That dry, slightly abrasive humor is part of what makes this site feel like me. Humor isn’t universal. Just because something doesn’t work for you doesn’t mean it’s wrong or empty.
For the record, the redacted words were "moron" and "idiots." If those broke the experience for someone, fair enough. But I’m not going to pretend those words were some kind of moral failing.
The tone was deliberate. I’m not careless with my writing. I know exactly how it sounds.
That tone, dry, self-aware, and sometimes confrontational, isn’t random. I was raised in a culture where satire, sarcasm, and irreverence were tools for expression, reflection, and survival. The style is informed and intentional. It’s not a sign of immaturity or ignorance.
Nothing here was meant to be cruel. It’s just my artistic vision, unfiltered and personal.
This is my site. I made it with care, and I stand by it.
Respectability doesn’t require stripping personality away. Polished doesn’t always mean better. Sometimes, it just means boring.
I'm open to critique, when it's invited. This site was not. It was never presented as a collaborative space (aside from like one or two parts), and I didn’t build it to be shaped by outside expectations. Unless I specifically ask, it's not a group effort. It's mine.
If there's a broken link or a glaring typo, by all means, let me know. But unsolicited advice about my tone, vocabulary, or sense of humor is a different matter. That’s not constructive criticism. That’s commentary on style. And unless I’ve asked for it, I’d prefer it be kept to oneself.
Don’t mistake this boundary for defensiveness. I can handle criticism just fine when it’s asked for, when it’s relevant, and when it respects the context. This isn’t that.
This isn't coming from a place of hostility. I’m grateful for the support I’ve been given. But appreciation doesn’t mean I have to open the floor to unsolicited edits of my personal work. This topic is deeply personal for me. It’s not just about word choice or tone. It’s about how I express myself, how I process the world, and how I want to be understood.
I can tell when feedback comes from a good place, and I appreciate it when it does. But when it starts to feel like pressure to soften my voice, tidy up my personality, and play it safe for the sake of "professionalism," that’s when it crosses a line.
Censorship isn’t always aggressive. Sometimes it’s quiet. A raised eyebrow. A "maybe change that wording." A reminder to "think about your audience." But if those suggestions slowly erase the tone, flavor, or honesty that defines me, then who exactly am I editing for?
Lately, it’s not just the content of what I say that’s scrutinized. It’s the tone. The phrasing. The way I joke, or the vocabulary I use. It’s the feeling that anything not wrapped in polite, formal language or soft phrasing is somehow lesser or unprofessional.
I’m not here to defend cruelty. But I am defending expression. Not every sentence needs to be sugarcoated to be meaningful. There’s a difference between encouraging kindness and demanding blandness.
I write like myself. That might be sharp, or even weird. But it’s not unkind, and it’s not thoughtless. It’s just me. And I’m not going to file off all the edges so it fits better in someone else’s box.
Yes. Because it’s never just about two words. It’s about the idea that I should have known better. That I should have softened the tone, played it safer, and written like I was expecting a performance review.
Those two words became shorthand for a bigger conversation—about control, expectation, and what kind of voices are seen as professional or acceptable. And if I don’t say anything, the next time it won’t be just two words.
And no, I’m not afraid of being called too emotional or too sensitive to criticism. If anything, I’m proud of how deeply I feel and how fiercely I protect my work. Sensitivity is not a flaw. It’s proof that I care. I won’t pretend indifference just to seem more agreeable.
This isn’t the first time someone’s tried to tone me down. And the last time it happened, it nearly broke me. I’ve been punished, silenced, and excluded for expressing myself too honestly. Told I was too weird, too intense, too different. It didn’t just sting. It left scars.
That’s why this matters. That’s why it hits a nerve. What might seem like a small suggestion to reword something or be more polished can echo as something much deeper when you’ve already lived through being told your voice doesn’t belong.
Just to be clear, none of this is coming from bitterness or anger. I’m not writing this out of spite. I’m writing it because this kind of thing hurts in a very specific, very personal way.
This isn't just me reacting to one comment. It’s me responding to a lifetime of being told my voice is too weird, too much, or too difficult to understand. It’s about finally drawing a line and saying: no more.
Why am I even writing this? Whatever. No one’s reading it anyway.
you guys are mean to me STOP IT!!!!
It's really not that serious. See how the chicken is the same size as the car 🐓🚗? Nothing is real. If you look through this website and think "yeah, this is a serious website and should be treated as such", you're kind of a [REDACTED]. Sorry not sorry.