Joshua Sonnikson is in his mid forties, gifted with computers oddly magnetic to vulnerable women and if they’re not vulnerable he will make it so.
His cult of teenagers is revolting but not massively surprising. He doesn’t see why societal “norms” should apply to him when creative free thinkers are so different and loved for it
As he doesn’t know the difference between a social norm and a societal boundary. Blowing off bad hairstyles isn’t delving into manipulative abuse with nothing too low to do.
He and his fellow bottom dwellers have reached vile depths of what they’ll do and what they will accuse others of.
Nothing too awful for them to avoid doing or saying
Now. Many are aware I know about the dangers of that man from being on the receiving end of his budding abuse, his experimentation. And what it’s like to stop thinking for yourself.
But Joshua made a mistake.
All abusers do.
He asked me to behave in a way counter to my upbringing.
Shouting “go buffs”. And throwing a hissy I wouldn’t. “I’m not going into the Dunahabe tea house with you.
“Okay, you can wait outside”
One does not ask someone from England to embarrass themselves. Small but satisfying.
Though, if we are to take this seriously again, his power had begun waning earlier that year – when a psychologist I was seeing for career advice asked me if I really did want to move to Portland with my “friend.”
I didn’t. But I noticed he blamed the one giving the advice instead of me. Like I couldn’t make my own decisions.
After that and after I fled to Palo Alto. Not quite clear on what was wrong. But something was. He still had his claws a little in me.
Then the Colorado trip. And the buffs.
Then the confidence my work environment built despite being hell on us.
I wouldn’t lie about something to do with my car. The next day was his birthday and he was throwing a sulk. He didn’t want me to go to a car show on his birthday anymore. Because I refused to apologize for something I hadn’t done wrong – and wouldn’t lie.
I turned to my boss, having gone in on my day off. “Good news, I can stay longer and get this paperwork sorted.”
A bumpy escape trajectory later I was piecing myself back together from nothing with the help of a talented therapist. In another state, hoping it was all behind me.
I talked to a friend, another sort of ex. A little about our mutual experiences. I almost fell into PUA style clutches again. And then there was my ex spouse
…
But all long behind me it was a terrifying confusing mess when Joshua Sonnikson targeted me, driving me insane with reality abuse and gaslighting, torture of multiple kinds, and psych ops on my family.
I didn’t know who or why, my stuff was too hacked to find out, and no one else seemed to know either.
But that’s parts behind us, isn’t it. Cultlings? He’s claiming my writing is his – well it isn’t but it’s not worth him doing so anyway is his new one. And the abused don’t notice the change.
The philosophy he got from me is a chapter in a section of a book I’m working on. But somehow ideas I’m still mulling over were stolen from that intelligent airhead.
I’m actually extremely skilled and talented as a writer and was on the cusp of a career when he began shitting on me so that one is annoying. But not quite at annoying as taking the philosophy I wrote under “Michael Weaver” as his own somehow. That I, known then as Sylver, somehow killed the me that was Michael Weaver because I sought treatment for Bipolor. And thinking something pamphlet sized I wrote in my 20’s is nearly enough to unravel the universe in.
It’s all annoying really. And I’d like to be left alone by both Joshua’s allies and enemies.
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