Sylvanna Devlin

So I’m less speeding to an escape and more limping along till I can get to a hotel as a safe place to be while hoping to go somewhere secure.

My “captures” caught wind of where and have already begun a defamation campaign with falsified “evidence” and generally shitting on what was my good name.

It might be again.

My reputation that is.

If I can just get out of here.

Who knows, maybe the news will have a slow day (ha!) and pick up everything I’m doing to wiggle free.

Meanwhile I’m trying to decide if I should warn my potential property manager anymore than I have

I did send a photo.

I did say my escape was being resisted.

So my guess is no. She’ll get the general gist and at least give me a chance to come in person and make a decent impression then.

A bath,

Clean hair,

Clean clothes,

Maybe even fixed nails,

Would certainly make me presentable.

So all this after I’ve landed somewhere with a safe enough bathroom.

The fuck away from here.

Actually it’s not massively far. But I hope far from their reach.

Meanwhile I’m a tad insulted they would think I’ll just come back for anything other than my belongings.

But they don’t have a plan other than shitting on my reputation and cognitive abuse.

Like that’s a fucking good idea.

Death is still preferable so my cat is sometimes all that keeps me going.

And there have been mutterings of shooting her.

Seriously?

I mean what do they want to achieve? I’ve already reported everything they do so it’s not like secrets die with my corpse.

But….

An yes.

The Napoleon Bonaparte issue.

My ex was like that, trying to tug on my heartstrings till the final moment. Long after I found slight pleasure in thwarting his pissiness

There’s no fun to be had here. And I would be crying my eyes out about how even the prospect of level I meningioma doesn’t stop them.

But I’m exhausted.

And Manic.

Oh so fucking, don’t move a muscle crazy.

I felt it shiver into the side of my skull and like a light switch my bipolar was on full out war with my fibromyalgia.

Now since I spent the better part of a week packing and sorting? My bodily limitations swore at my mania with a “no can do love, I’m knackered”

So I’m sitting here, listening to their latest cognitive abuse, wondering how long it’s going on for this time.

And back to wondering if I shouldn’t worry that the bitch brigade is so foul they might target people in my new place.

I really think I should discuss that in person, however.

And round and round I go, waiting till I chill enough to do the dishes.

Ah how exciting mania is in your late 40’s.

P.S.

Apparently their current attempt is to say they heard me use a certain word they can’t even get in my sleep.

I do not use racial slurs

And I do not appropriate the usage of subcultures I don’t belong to.

Subculture used loosely here as there are other slurs in other cultures that are fine for them.

For example, as I have been particularly interested in genderqueer individuals as well as cis gendered men?

I am considered part of the queer community.

That’s ours.

Fuck off.