An Open Letter to WordPress

Dear WordPress creators, I am onto you.
You have been very crafty crafty, and I see straight through you. Whenever I go to type a web address, the first thing that pops up is the link to your website. I have to say, it makes me feel guilty that I’m not a better blogger. Both in terms of content and post regularity. What happened to you, WordPress? We used to be such good friends. Now you only serve to make me feel ashamed.
Well WordPress, do you know what I have to say to that? Screw you. I am in the middle of a very trying time here. I go outside in the snow, and it is so deep I lose my feet. I have to wear the brightest orange pair of Converse I own, just so I don’t forget where my feet are. You don’t have this problem, because you are a website and thus don’t own feet or shoes, but it is very uncomfortable, and sometimes causes me to fall over.
I don’t need any help in the falling over stakes, thank you very much. I’ll have you know, I have fallen over twice in the car park at work. The second time, I heard a car full of people laughing at me. So, I am clearly already accomplished.
Also, I have 8,000 words to write before going back to university in two days, and I have literally put no effort in whatsoever. You could have been a bit more supportive there, WordPress. Perhaps giving me juice and cookies in an attempt to motivate my reluctant mind.
Or, you could have negotiated with my lecturers. I mean, who gives essays over Christmas anyway? It is the time of giving, and family love. Why sully that with learning and bettering yourself?
Anyway WordPress, I suppose I can’t stay mad at you. Christmas has thrown joy and happiness at me, mostly in the form of confectionary, and that pleases my innards.
Seriously, I have eaten maybe double my body weight in miniature Aeros.
Also, notable comedian Dara O’Briain responded to me on Twitter, which doesn’t seem to interest people in the real world, but you are a website, and thus should be suitable enthused.
You are? Well, thanks WordPress. I guess all is forgiven.
Yours Aerofully, Laura