Dear Commenter Who Feels The Need To Tell Me They Like My Old Stuff Better,
I'm sorry that I've made a small fraction of your Facebook news feed a disappointment. Goodness knows I only spent the past fourteen years of my life honing my artistic skills so that I could please a bunch of strangers on the internet. It breaks my heart to think that I have ruined your day, as I have obviously done- why else would you feel the need to make such a comment? If the fact that my art no longer meets your expectations weren't such a serious blow to your emotional wellbeing, such a comment would only be inane and self-centered! And that's not you at all. You're a veritable saint of saints! The way you don't buy anything from me (teaching me not to be materialistic! so you), the way you treat me like nothing more than a faceless source of aesthetically-pleasing images for you to mindlessly consume and butcher for use as a profile picture (teaching me humility- such an inspiration!), it's a wonder you haven't been canonized.
So please, dear Commenter, rest easy- I will no longer inconvenience you with my insolent "experimentation". I couldn't bear living another moment without your one-word comments, your Facebook likes, your remorseless pilfering of my images. From now on, I will only paint things which you approve of, things which you are comfortable with and which make you feel good. Because that's what I'm in this for- to affirm to you that the world revolves around you. You've told me to jump, dear friend- now, I must ask how high.
Warmest, most saccharine regards,
P.S. - Just kidding. I'll paint whatever the fuck I want. Go choke on a cock.