Sylvanna Devlin

Either you find it amusing to drive someone to suicide or you are that stupid. Which is it?

Evil?

Or a total fuckwit.

So leaving aside all the negative and incorrect assumptions about being pushed over the edge to death. I have had my last nerve clawed at.

Again.

And my neighbor seems to think behaving like a sanctimonious bitch – no matter how well meaning – will improve the situation.

I don’t really see the point of going to the hospital. I have a psychiatrists appointment today to address severe depression which is why another attempt to drive me to suicide is currently being made.

I would be sent home, told to follow up at my appointment. And the chemical situation becomes tenuous again as there would be a lot less wrong with me if people weren’t trying to kill me and others were brushing it off as paranoia.

No you wouldn’t believe it if I was dead, as that happened (albeit briefly) last year.

I said I couldn’t manage to start to get better, start climbing out of the pit of hell your stigma built for me, with a bunch of assholes deliberately clawing into me.

They would rather I die than they learn that you can’t stigmatize people. Because clearly they can.

Aided and abetted by the giggle and hahas at my expense, the websites of fuckery. The “snap back to reality”, the armchair psychology, the invasion of privacy and the theft of writing. Among other issues.

I believe I barely scratched the surface of the gaslighting.

You are doing this.

You can’t keep doing this and then, “well I said go to the hospital”

What is the fucking point?

So you might have another round at toying with my temper? Another go at your favorite emotional punching bag? Your scapegoat of choice?

So you can try to absolve yourself of guilt that you do not learn to behave better?

Face the mirror today. And know blood will be on your hands one day, and one day soon. If not mine, another of your targets. Face the mirror and change.

I have bent myself in knots trying to dodge your games and murderous behavior. I am a hairs breath from out for good.

I’ve been here before.

I really should have died.

As you say you agree.

Do not. When I am calming from any stressor presume I am available to speak to. I am not here for your ease and entertainment.

And I am not still alive to assuage your conscience.

I am a talented writer. Pretty enough- would be more so if I lost weight. I’m spiritually inclined and close to god. Enough to know for a fact what he looks like.

But you don’t want me to have anything worth respecting.

You would rather steal it. Mock me. Scar my body. My face is apparently next.

Why the fuck would I want to live in your fucking world?

You don’t want to respect what I do, let alone me. You don’t want to offer me decency that I am a fucking 47 year old woman capable of running her life without your interference, permission or need to kowtow to your satisfaction.

I’m not here to boss around and bitch at so you feel good for half a second.

You don’t like me, my life, what I have to say? Butt the fuck out.

If you honestly don’t know the difference between walking an overwhelmed person through, and micromanaging and criticism? Shut the fuck up.

No more trying to tell me what to say, what to avoid. No more reading as I type and presume to change my work.

No more threats and demands that I adhere to your rules or you play mommy daddy with the government trying to get my disability cancelled.

And you fucking bitch.

I have, in my past, probably had more jobs than you. Don’t fucking gloat you are capable of enough regularity to have one. Like I fucking choose disability.

You stupid, stupid bitch.

I plan to try to get the right education to work part time and support myself- maybe feel some mathematical satisfaction.

Don’t fucking act like you don’t understand I need disability until I’m trained. No one, even someone being such a bitch, is that stupid.

A yes, swearing does sometimes help.

To continue.

I make standard ADHD mistakes you leave me the fuck alone to make them.

I make more bipolar oriented ones. You shut the fuck up about your judgment on that.

I have trouble with my dyslexia you recognize it is tied to more visual thinking and shut the fuck up about it.

My short term memory is short, shorter with the compounding PTSD you are adding to. But my long term is exceptional.

Don’t understand it? Don’t worry. You don’t need to.

Do not comment on, question, and criticize everything a weird and wonderful person does- or anyone different from you. Just know you do not have the experience to be making a call on those things.

Your prejudice isn’t as bad as your arrogance. I mean you have filthy opinions on the limitations one could have – purely for neurological diversity.

Fixed it for you.

But you are beyond exceptionally rude for feeling entitled to try to run my life. Because you are ignorant of the truths of mental illness to the point you don’t know how arrogant you are.

This is not the last time someone throws an emotional gut punch at me but I advise it to be your last.

If it’s not me you kill it will be another. And right now you’re killing my soul. I expect better from you as another free citizen of this country, and I am as adult as I want to be outside my private space, and little as I feel like inside it when alone.

That’s pretty fucking adult as to who you should be speaking to. Stop spying on me you perve. Get a life other than mine. Stop mocking others with sardonic humor because you’re not remotely funny.

Is the situation clear enough now?