Sylvanna Devlin

I’ve had enough of reality abuse and gaslighting thank you. As any is too much, and women have been using this as a power tactic too long. Particularly with me.

The amount of money poured into abusing me is ridiculous! It had to be terrorism. And it is. But what do they want? For me to pull a book? No one resorts to terrorism over a book right? A good, original, insightful one. But still a book.

But that’s not the only target. I am. And that’s because the motive behind the method really is killing me.

I am “bad for” (abusive) womankind.

Rather live and let live, I am a fucking threat to their status quo. I have looks, brains, talent, sex appeal and am the nicest person when not being obliterated.

We need me if women are going to get anywhere. But as I write this they are hacking in to see and while I am silent they say to get off my high horse.

Because knowing what they are targeting about you is bad I suppose.

Come back to reality?

You’re an abusive bitch hacking my phone because you fear me becoming popular and I point out your kind of bullshit.

Maybe I would have less to point out.

Women are behind the mangling of my genitalia and attempts to bring me so far down I become a whore because sex traffickers are a little reluctant now.

Got to hook her on drugs. Find something to talk about in case lies are discovered.

That’s why you dug into my painful past isn’t it, Missy?

You had to do something to discredit me before I even left the ground.

I could – another time delve into the “mean girls” psyche and how an abusive asshole who looks down on a target really doesn’t want them to be successful.

It’s embarrassing to their ego.

What I have to do now is learn to dodge abuse because parrying isn’t working and counter attack is making me miserable.

I don’t want to be the nasty beast they want the world to believe- but apparently my ability to be nice and kind is counter to the will of all of Oregon.

Alrighty then.

I have to remember my core before some abusive individual shat on my friendships, my family – particularly my successful father, and anyone who tried to help me.

They invented threats and hired killers

They called the cops if I they heard me at all.

They tried to make this neighborhood seem dark and dangerous – don’t go out at night, there’s a body in the dumpster. My favorite “exaggeration” was that someone said our building manager had been attacked by an axe wielding god knows what. And that person saved her!

Because that’s likely.

I’ve listened. I’ve waited. I’ve been so abused that nothing hasn’t been shat on. Including the abuse they levied at my cat. My music. My listing on google and amazon. Hacked and dug in, stolen, tortured- and again mangled.

Because I’m bad for their image.

Their power dynamics.

Their egos.

They have to bring me to the brink of death so they can be free to discredit me while my cognition is under attack and my books can’t be finalized.

Apart from Game over (non fiction) I have three novels waiting to be polished and a good ten to twenty year career lined out in the notes and scraps of dialogue on my pages.

I wasn’t the kind to be popular in middle school. My freshman high school was too divided to worry and the outcasts banded together my sophomore year.

My junior year I started a split while attending Freshman College classes and left to go to college at 16. I was a part of campus protests and made one hell of a second in command.

This kind of crap was so juvenile I thought there had to be more to it than “popularity”. And while that may be true for some. The dangerous bullying is anything but child’s play – as written on my blog.

Women resorting to terrorism to discredit in advance what was the village sweetheart and is now perceived as the wicked witch of the west.

They want me lying on a broken unmade bed. My garbage piled up. Too paranoid to use the bathroom. Afraid to leave the room for what they’ll steal and vandalize next. My cat has to join me because she’s anxious if I leave her alone.

These vultures hurt my cat. Now I protect her with my life. She’s the reason I don’t give up again. She’s who I talk to half the time. She like some, just likes a background chatter in my natural voice.

It’s pleasant to some- so got to make me afraid to talk.

Anything everything because they want me destroyed but don’t see that means suicide not permanent hospitalization.

They are responsible for the circumstances leading to my fatal suicide in July. I came back from the dead. I was in heaven meeting God! But a surgeon saved my life and for a while I struggled to admit I was disappointed to still be alive.

If I get better, if I write, if I care for my appearance. I’m attacked. Have to make me look ugly on the outside on the off chance I’ll feel that way on the inside.

My reputation was thoroughly shat on. But they’re still trying to permanently silence me. Because the alternative is the woman in their mirrors.