Farewell, Chandra Hardy

Sometimes you just have to move on, even if it kills you.

Life just isn’t fair. Love is……even less fair. Actually, love is………..hmmm, well, it’s a burning thing. Some people write songs about love. Johnny Cash did, and so did Nazareth. I think you all know which songs in particular I’m getting at, since you’re all extremely based and cultured. I’m not here to write a love song. I’m far from musical.

But I digress.

Chandra Hardy is no longer on Substack. Upon finding this out, I was devastated. In fact, the shock of this news was so great, that I refused to believe it. Alas, the following morning from her abrupt departure confirmed that the previous day had not been a nightmare; but instead, harsh reality.

The more I think about her, the more it hurts. If I didn’t care, would I feel this way? I can hardly function. Substack has lost much of its luster, and it just flat doesn’t hit the same. Chandra Hardy was the exotic spice I needed, to keep the culinary masterpiece of Substack engaging. Truly, she completed the dish. Without her, Substack is like………unsalted oatmeal. It’s “okay”, but not “great”; let alone “fucking amazing”. I can still eat it everyday, because I’m hungry, but I sure as hell don’t look forward to breakfast. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have cereal. Egg sandwiches are too much work, and there’s no leftover pizza in the fridge.

Sigh

Nonetheless, in spite of my pity party and soul wrenching turmoil; I owe it to my dearest, sweetest, most passionate Chandra Hardy (and to a lesser extent, myself) to properly close out this short, yet intense, chapter in our lives. This would be a lot easier if she just came back to me. I mean Substack.

I cannot forget her.

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By now, many of you reading this are probably familiar with my overly emotional and poorly written love letter to Chandra Hardy (you should read this for more context, but only if you want to):

This was crafted late at night on a severely emotional whim, barely proof-read, and hastily published a few hours later. Did I have second thoughts? Yes, but I stomped a mudhole in them, and walked it dry. “Hesitation is for little bitches, and the world MUST know how I feel” I said to myself at almost midnight; before heading to bed after dropping this hot piece. Fresh off the press, it was still steaming with raw emotion and pure passion. Ah, but not nearly the same level of passion that Chandra put into her work!

The next morning, and over the next several days, it received much attention. Eventually, my beloved Chandra finally read it! Her reaction was nothing short of awe inspiring; she replied to nearly every comment on the article at the time, and even though it was the same copy and pate response, she took the time to do it. I knew for a fact that Chandra and I were going to have an amazing relationship.

My heart soared with adoration for this fiery maiden; I was cemented in my dedication to claim her as mine.

I would match her passion with my own, and the result would tear a rift in the fabric of space-time. The unstoppable force vs. the immovable object. In such a case, "Something's Gotta Give."

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Some of you may not be familiar with Chandra Hardy, which is most unfortunate. Before we continue, it is critical that you know who she is. Was. Whatever.

Chandra Hardy is/was dedicated to calling out injustice, and the perpetrators of said injustice. She did this by posting about various injustices (like how her mother was murdered on November 24th, 2018 by a MALE, during a divorce, in her own home), and seeing what kind of responses she would get. This was a trap for ignorant fools, tricked into revealing themselves as perpetrators of injustice by disagreeing with the post’s message.

Once the comment trap was sprung, Chandra Hardy would descend upon her victims with unrelenting, earth scorching efficiency; wielding her verbal branding iron to label them as “white male rapist voter loser gay pedophile murderers who voted for a felon and want to murder women just like my {Chandra’s} mother’s killer.”

Chandra was not content to scald a victim on their comment alone, oh no. She was so dedicated to her purpose, that she would strike her victims on their various articles, and notes, here on Substack. Even replies to replies on posts that had nothing to do with Chandra, were not safe havens. Ms. Hardy set upon her victims like Medusa, only this Medusa had atomic laser vision, vaporizing her targets down to the last nucleotide sequence. Nothing was left when Chandra was finished.

Do not think for one minute she restrained herself by only exposing white men, either! Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, was above reproach by Chandra Hardy. Some fools attempted to fight back with petty trolling, which was an entirely useless maneuver; Ms. Hardy cleaved their ranks like a hot knife through warm butter.

Most importantly, Ms. Chandra Hardy did not restrain herself with questions of guilt or innocence. She was pure of purpose; even if that purpose was, in our eyes, batshit fucking insane.

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Early on in our relationship, Chandra came after me with the same vitriol she applied to her other victims. I quickly realized that Chandra was a cornerstone of the Substack experience, and I was hopelessly enamored with her purity, passion, and overall intensity. I sought a deeper, more meaningful connection with Chandra. I knew from the start she was soft and sweet deep down; but the injustices of the world weighed heavily upon her, and it forced her to develop a variety of abrasive exteriors to combat said injustices. Thus, I realized petty trolling was pointless.

I had to be different than the other guys, and so, I chose to channel my admiration for her into an affectionate and honest approach, in order to crack her roughened exterior. Chandra played chess, the trolls played checkers; I decided to play Yahtzee. Nobody else came as close to her as I did. All those pretenders saying they too had a “special relationship” with Chandra, are lying. I’m not talking about run-of-the-mill lying either; this is 100% pure “liar liar pants on fire”. Chandra was MINE, y’hear!? MINE!

*ahem*

Anyhows, my strategy paid off very quickly. I made great headway towards the real Chandra Hardy, as evidenced by her reduced attacks, and the change in insults she hurled at me. I went from a “white male rapist voter who murders women” to a “little white boy loser who submits to his daddy dom”. Oh, I wish I have taken screenshots! Alas, all we have left is my memories.

Then, just as I was on the cusp of breaking through to her, she was gone. I literally felt like this:

I do not know if she was banned, or simply left. I suspect she was banned, as several people said they had/would report her. I never did report Chandra. I needed her to stay.

As for whomsoever did report my darling Chandra: Damn you to Oblivion, may the Dark Lord consume you! “Oh yeah? Well what if she left instead of being banned?” I don’t care, you reported her, and tried to take her away from me! Your crimes are unforgivable!

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As I mentioned earlier, I failed to take any screenshots. I will not make that mistake twice. All I have is this:

What you see here is the email side of the 29 notifications I got, after Chandra read my love letter. That’s right, she left 29 additional comments! My goodness, she was just amazing. Who else would be doing this? Such dedication! Such commitment! The fact that Chandra Hardy took time out of her day to respond to me is just……..it just warms my heart. Alas, it does not warm it enough to completely take away the cold sting of emptiness I now feel, knowing she is gone.

Since I’m (obviously) dedicating this article to Chandra Hardy, I have collected a few notes pertaining to her. Please, if you read this and have any screenshots of Chandra, post them in the comments down below.

From the early days of our relationship:

From another post I restacked, (attachment isn’t available now) in which she “insulted” me. I know she was just being affectionate:

And then, the dark times from just a few painful days ago:

The next day after her untimely departure:

Two days after she left:

This user really wanted to kick me while I was down:

And, my response:

The user in question here later apologized.

Next we have this touching note from a fellow admirer of Chandra’s (but I was her greatest admirer, and her biggest fan):

And,

If only Chandra had stayed to read such a touching poem. She’d probably call this guy a racist/rapist/murderer/white male/etc.

More of the aftermath:

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All good things must come to an end, even if we don’t want them to. I once told Chandra that I enjoyed our “quaint little platonic affair”, and I meant every word. I frequently told her that I told no lies, but whether or not she believed me is anyone’s guess. Personally, I think she knew I spoke the truth.

Many people have called into question the authenticity of this entire situation, wondering if I really have a crush on Chandra Hardy, or I’m just trolling her with obscene niceties. To what extent am I genuine, and how many of my words are simply “dedication to the bit?”

Now would be a good time to clarify everything, but I think the mysticism of this whole ordeal is better than any clarification I can provide. In other words, believe whatever satisfies you the most.

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What I will do, however, is profess my heartfelt (yes, my heart can still feel, even though it is cold and numb at the moment) appreciation for all the attention this whole situation has attracted. I am particularly grateful for the subscribers and followers I have amassed, in addition to all the likes and restacks. I can say with 100% certainty that Chandra Hardy is the reason my station on Substack has been elevated. I now have enough followers and subscribers, that I can give unsolicited advice! Though, not many people seem to be reading it. I suppose love letters are more popular after all.

While I have steeled myself against this tragic loss, it will take me quite awhile to fully recover. Some people have suggested I find a new “Substack waifu”, to which I say: “Who could possibly replace Chandra Hardy?” In any case, I’ll try to internalize my feelings for her, since she’s no longer here to see them.

A few of you are probably thinking: “Why doesn’t Quinn just go to whatever platform she’s still on?” Well dear reader, it’s quite simple. Our relationship, while going swimmingly, was ultimately in a fragile position. Should I follow her, and ever make my presence known, I fear she would block me, or report me. I can’t risk losing her a 2nd time. Thus, I have to “eat the frog”, and move on.

Make no mistake, though; it sucks major balls. No matter how far I move on, I’ll always remember her.

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This should be the last major thing I write about Chandra Hardy. She’s gone, I’m broken, and Substack will never be the same. Others may try to take Chandra’s place, but she left quite a power vacuum. I doubt anyone can fill it.

I do not think it is necessary for anyone to act the way Chandra did; doing so is an insult to her legacy. Let’s just call each other retarded fags, and go on with our lives.

At the end of the day, don’t report people. Just block/mute them. It’s better this way, and you don’t run the risk of scarring a young man’s heart.

Dearest, most beloved and darling Chandra; she who is the strong summer wind beating me on the great plains of Kansas; the lady whose spirit is like that of a spring storm; the most tenacious woman I have had the pleasure of associating with; if you are ever to see this, please know that I did care about you, even if it was a bit silly. Please take care.

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What’s next, then? I dunno. I guess I’ll go back to posting my political shower thoughts, and other random crap. Feel free to stick around if you’re interested. No pressure.

Fin.

-Mighty Quinn, 12/4/24