Why I need to love the haters

The haters are incredibly frustrating. They seethe out there in the parallel reality of the internet, a faceless Akira-blob of bitter invective and prevarication, lurking invisibly in the ether, right behind me and all around me yet somehow never right in front of me where I can get at them. There’s no way to tell when they might strike or how. They’re like a caucus of horrible little spite-goblins, convening to plan their elaborate defamations, striking without warning and then melting back into their foul realm again. I can hear their ceaseless chittering in the back of my mind, see their libel etched in the glowing calligraphy of the smartphone when I close my eyes. They drive me fucking crazy.