Summary

The website content is a fictional diary entry purportedly from an actress, expressing frustration and contempt in a tumultuous relationship with a partner named Johnny, alongside reflections on fame and personal behavior.

Abstract

The provided text is presented as excerpts from a diary of a fictional actress, reminiscent of Amber Heard, detailing her turbulent relationship with her partner, Johnny. She expresses disdain for their counseling sessions, admits to defecating on his side of the bed as a prank, and criticizes Johnny for his emotional responses and behavior. The author also muses about interactions with other celebrities, her partner's relevance in the industry, and her own drinking habits. Despite the animosity, she acknowledges her love for Johnny and the complexities of their dynamic, where she sees herself as his muse and necessary to prevent his descent into obscurity. The entry concludes with a commitment to continue writing to document her experiences and a disclaimer stating the fictional nature of the piece.

Opinions

The author vehemently dislikes attending couple's counseling and dismisses Johnny's emotional sharing as whining.
She finds Johnny's reactions to her pranks, such as pooping in bed, to be overly serious and indicative of a generational difference in humor.
The author believes that Johnny's silence and avoidance are forms of torture and reflect his weakness and inability to confront his faults.
She views Johnny as clinging to relevance in the entertainment industry and derides his physical appearance, comparing him to a "saggy, old cloth cat."
The author expresses a desire for new experiences and sexual partners, considering Johnny's affection for her to be unconditional and foolish.
She reflects on her own behavior, questioning whether she is being unfair or overly influenced by alcohol.
Despite the harsh criticisms, the author admits to still loving Johnny and identifies herself as his necessary muse, suggesting a complex and codependent relationship.
The author plans to continue documenting her life, recognizing the power of written words over memory.

Not the Amber Heard Diaries: Love, Depp, and Bed-Poop

Leaked pages from a diary of an actress scorned

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:AmberHeard09TIFF.jpg">gdcgraphics, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0">CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

I refuse to go to one more counselling session. I hate it! Listening to him whine on about his fucking childhood. He made me look like a bitch today, telling the therapist the pretty lady punched the old man in the face. Boo hoo! Get over it! Pussy!

I pooped on his side of the bed — big deal! It was funny! Gen X-ers are so serious! It’s like no one knows what a prank is anymore.

If Johnny behaved, we wouldn’t argue and waste money on silly therapists and counselling.

Franco was at Coachella. He’s pure sleaze but fun. He said he’ll be at Delevigne’s dinner party next Thursday. I’ll wear something tight, get the lech begging. He could be the sojourn I need from Captain limp beard.

Why does Johnny torture me with silence? He never wants to face his faults, forever running away to other rooms. He’s weak. I grow tired of him. And those little dogs — buy a real fucking dog, you pansy. How am I supposed to use those little fur balls as an excuse for busting a grumpy!

Johnny still wants me. I can literally shit all over him and he’ll still pine away for me. Men are dumb! Idiots!

Dior have lost their fucking mind. What do they want with a bloated, old has-been missing a finger tip?!

Why won’t you behave, Johnny! Why do you keep fighting me? You were mine! My little pirate. My trinket of make-believe. Now you’re a saggy, old cloth cat. A vampire out of fresh blood.

He still thinks he’s relevant. HA!

I’m growing bored of dick. I want some velvet to tip, something other than old-pirate meat to peg. Kristen.S single…?

I think i’m drinking too much. Maybe i’m being a bitch. He makes her come out. And then denies all responsibility. You make the bitch, you deal with the bitch!

I had another dream about E.M. We flew on one of his rockets and fucked on Mars. E.M. never argues with me. He’s too busy to argue — where’s the fun in that?!

At least Johnny is there. My lost, little creature made from butter. You belong to me. You’re mine! Nobody leaves me. I leave them.

I still love him…

He needs me. I’m his muse. What else would he do but end up another washed-up actor — dying alone.

I’ll let him take me shopping, as an apology, and pick up something for Delevigne’s — two birds with one stone.

I’ll write regularly from now on, to clear my mind and document what’s going on.

“The faintest ink is more powerful than the strongest memory.”

Signed,

All the boys love Not-Amber-Heard

Disclaimer: the above piece is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

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