Sylvanna Devlin

I’m having difficulty maintaining my cool and my soft center is getting burnt by the intensity of my replies.

It’s not that they’re unwarranted. Just that pushing back twats is making me more miserable than baseline.

But just absorbing it is too painful.

As soon, the absolute instant, I sound like my mood is improving, someone shits all over me.

And I’m not the only one with that experience.

It makes it hard to remotely try the things we’re supposed to for the purpose of climbing out of hell.

And average chores are nigh impossible.

I start writing, the poetry flows, and someone – who should not be in a position to know my words – asks me to dumb it down.

I don’t think so.

But putting fingers to keys is a sign my mood is stable enough to create a little. And that’s an anathema to abusers.

In truth, my ex spouse Toad, bullied, harassed, nitpicked, baited, and in general abused me without the aid of an AI.

His reactive abuse gave me the nerve-pain based PTSD that this whole troll-bot situation compounded.

I don’t care who started it. The reasons are so varied it’s probably all of them.

I just want it to stop.

As for my squishy golden-hearted core? The one abusive arses say no one believes is there?

Said to hurt me, no better reason.

All the cruel things said to hurt me.

What do I do that I want to be loving and the world doesn’t seem to care.

But I am covered in their tar if I acknowledge a word they speak and they work every nerve until they succeed.

So today I went dark side.

No one believed I was kind, sweet, gentle and caring?

Indeed the response to the very idea is “come back to reality”

Fine I wouldn’t be.

But I’m not happy this way either.

I need a solution and fast.

A way to return to my core and refuse to sink to their level. Get a Clydesdale and ride it out of misery.

Or I’m out permanently.

Because I’m unhappy with this change.

And no one is willing to let me change back.

Tomorrow this ends or I do.