Rant Thingy

Here's a little blurb that could very well be the beginning of a story. Though, I would never probably write the story b/c I really don't like the person I'm ranting about. This was an indirect way to bitch at them. It's kind of clever though, I think it sounds pretty good. =)
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“Do you really think your pathetic little life matters that much?” He asked me, sneering. “Do you really think that you’re succeeding at anything by working hard to make your store number one in the district? I mean, you’re just a sales associate, not even a manager!”

He did have point there. The majority of my working life, I’d spent as a sales associate. I hadn’t grown, hadn’t learned anything but how to take orders and clean hamster cages. I had spent my non-working life, drawing pictures of girls with unrealistically big breasts. Was that a success? What was I doing with my life? Sure, I worked hard and came home from work tired, and then I would draw:

Girls with their mouths hanging open seductively in too-tight lingerie, men with that same overdone macho air, scary monsters, blood – I did it all. What was I proving with this? Did this make me an adult? Just because I could draw a cat woman with a tail that looked like it was coming out of her backdoor? While some people spend their early adult years learning, studying and continuing to get jobs with higher wages, I just stayed contently in my little hole.

My universe revolved around my job and my computer. I had quite the gathering of online friends. But how much was an online friend worth? Only a tiny fragment of a person can exist in a computer, only the briefest glimpse of their being. This life was shallower than that of the most fashion-conscious cheerleader preppie. At least they got to see real people. All I got were pictures of these people – probably all photoshopped anyway.

And when I did see these people in person at a convention or something, they were nothing like their pictures. Their cool, calm beauty was replaced by nervous, giggling, pimply faces. They were ugly, horrifying even - totally unlike their online self. These were the people that commisioned pictures from me of them as dragons, vampires or werewolves. In reality however, if these people had been actual dragons, vampires or werewolves, they would have been destroyed for sure. It is said that the older a vampire is, the more dangerous it is because it has learned how to survive. But these people, they didn’t know how to survive. The real world was just as dangerous to them as if there really were dragons and werewolves to contend with.

Then it struck me – this ugly person standing before me was the real person – not the hot, put-together lingerie model from the internet. And I wondered, is this how I came off to other people? Is this how I came off to him? Did I really devalue myself so much that I had to hide in the fake skin of a slutty vampire mistress? Now I vowed to shed that skin, to live as a real person, in the real world and actually make something of my life. I wanted to be respected and I wanted to actually help people and help the world.