Sylvanna Devlin

Okay.

Silver here.

Here’s the thing. Abuse is aggressive. It attacks the wounded and if not someone yet hurt they will drag them down.

Anyone who has been abused shies away from the term – particularly as much as we have in the past (lost my marbles and don’t want them back)’

Anything but that.

That’s if they’re not twisting the word boundaries as just previously defined.

To call someone else abusive in the hands of an abusive bitch is a method of control, a childish “I know you are, but what am I?”

To block, parry and counter is apparently now the same as trying to exert power and control.

Sure. Fine. I want the power to be left alone. And to control my own moods without your interference.

If you don’t know the difference? Who cares? You already shat on me so much it doesn’t matter what I say or do.

I’ve been gaslighted in and out of the truth, my heart used as a carrot stick to survive the ongoing abuse without compromising my inner glory for some good old unselie fae.

No one would believe the angel within me existed anymore, no. So why bother trying, just to have you spit on the ground outside my window?

Do I look pretty enough to feel pretty on the inside? Not anymore but your bullshit was so soul destroying I wonder what I would see in your eyes.

Do you have one?

Is it pretty?

Or does your opinion on a stranger make you irrelevant to my existence?

You want to see a wordsmith wield words.

Fine. Got it. Anything to make you bite your tongue a little more.

I’d like to be left alone. But Melissa isn’t here right now. I said I couldn’t make it through the night.

You said, “do you promise?”

Sure hun, whatever. Anything to shut you up. So unending patience is gone and parry and repost is here

The one striving for more compassion and more understanding was so shat on by you abusive bitches she lost her mind.

You wanted to know what “Silver” was like.

You would best mind your tongue before you find out.

And men? Who so wanted me, you let me suffer and get close to dying? So disappointed to see my unselie side?

How much can you really say you love me if you leave me crying like a banshee and I’m going to get a written warning.

Fine. If you are going to lie and abuse the system? My patience is gone.

And you are so deluded you didn’t even recognize I was trying to stay nice.

Not succeeding at holding back a wail. A cry. Sobbing.

And knocking things off my bed was apparently enough for the bitch next door to say I was throwing things.

She’s on my shit list now.

I hope she learns not to comment.