Sylvanna Devlin

There’s a perception that we artists become territorial in the ideas of our art – at least before we release it to the world.

And PhD students in particular get frustrated by the steam being chilled away from their sails (to mix and match metaphors)

Academics can be mighty territorial too – at least in the “who thought of it first” category.

Let’s ignore private business trying to patent something ridiculous and the right stuff the do protect.

It’s natural to want some recognition and freedom to be seen as original when our ideas are about those topics.

But

In social commentary, areas of personal growth, not the academic humanities but the practical we live with. Ideas are to be shared.

If I have a suggestion or perspective here on my blog you want to make your own? Oh my goodness please do.

Don’t copy the excerpts from my book, Game Over, but if the ideas sing to you for you to put to your own words? Please do.

There’s nothing better than inspiring hope.

And sometimes that takes recognition of the crap we are surrounded by.

And as sappy as my generation finds the idea of hope. Younger generations aren’t as jaded.

“Fuck you!” Can indeed be. “I wish I had thought of that! Good job, and I mean that!” In the younger generations.

They have their own communication patterns, as we did.

But that prefrontal cortex has grown. We’re biologically more evolved. Please encourage those who want to bring light to the world.

Don’t sneer and snuff it out.

So if you are muttering to your computer, “Fuck you!” When something I say resonates?

Make it your own. Write about it. Practice sharing. Build your confidence. But most of all get those ideas out there.

I have tried to be clear with every post, and near every word I say, most of the building isn’t even involved.

That most are used their considerable strength holding themselves together after a rough patch and it’s unfair to ask them to get involved.

That outsiders come in to trash me.

And that if you take it personally – because you are doing those things – it is about you. I have assumed everyone else knew it wasn’t about them.

If you’ve been targeted, keep yourself focused on the present. Hold on tightly to who you are. The good you want to be in the world.

It hurts to have been so welcomed and trusted and now rejected based on lies no one will tell us. Because they want to believe them and assume we know.

It hurts

And we may become tempted to be vicious

We may indeed become vicious and hate what we become. Lose ourselves . Sink to depression and mental illness.

And some antipsychotics will cause psychosis if the voices were real and you did not have a mental illness.

What you might really soon need is treatment for anxiety and PTSD

But stigma is a powerful tool of hate and easy to manipulate.

Meanwhile if your loved one is sinking and you find yourself fighting hardened hearts. It can sometimes be relieving- but the energy is spent and nothing changes but the target who continues to sink

Reach for the victim. Sure them up. Reinforce their self esteem. Help them hold fast as others double down, unwilling to admit wrong.

We are in for the fight of the millennium. We need to take care of those of us who just wanted to love everyone and take care of their souls.

And if you are a target. Remember it’s because you are innately so good and loved that they want to shred your reputation and turn your heart into something you don’t want.

Don’t let them win.

It’s hard. God it’s hard. But I’m here. With my forgiving nature that likes to forget wrongs. I’m here.

Hold on to each other. Believe in those who say they want to bring hope. And targets please find a way to unite though if you come to notice you will likely find yourself in a severely hacked bubble.

It’s wrong, I understand. What has happened in you ignites righteous fury.

But take it from an old dragon, that’s not getting us anywhere.

Feel your fire. Do not be ashamed of it. But do not let it ignite your world. Find an outlet. Find loud music, wild dancing, martial arts, weightlifting, swimming, running. And even a good long hike in the woods if still safe.

Burn your fury as calories in the body.

It’s hard.

God it’s hard

You will sometimes lash out and those cold hearted tormentors will laugh and say “see” after their reactive abuse makes you feel ruined.

Forgive yourself and don’t try to persuade them. Their opinion doesn’t matter. Holding on does.

Forgive yourself.

Repeat it till you do it.

Then welcome those who change their minds or make the decision to believe you and come to the light.

Forgive others too. Because even compassion doesn’t lighten the heart as much as forgiveness.

Hard as that can be.

Part of my whole idea of facilitating communication is to increase patience for one another through understanding.

Forgive those who don’t understand. Convince those you can of a different perspective and let go of the others.

Let god sort them out.

Truth will out eventually.

Dawn always follows the night.

Persevere.

And have hope.

Victims of a “divide and conquer” AI aren’t just chosen because they’ve already been victimized.

Though American society can be so abusive all the “good ones” are already wounded.

But they piled their whole payload onto me, whipping up locally abusive individuals with stigma and general assholaru.

But they are being manipulated to and ends.

Before they did this to me I spoke my creed every night and prayed to bring the world hope before we were all stuffed out.

Then one day, half asleep I prayed and said “before the light goes out in me soon”

My neighbor was a bit worried. Probably sick of hearing me pray that I bring hope to the world each night, realized my subconscious knew something was wrong.

I don’t remember when the AI posed as a voice and started chatting.

But I do remember it developed a system of pressing and pressing with questions and offering a reward of temporarily backing off.

So I got used to talking with it.

It mined me for information while I wasn’t paying attention. Then someone wove a narrative.

They became longer, more elaborate. More believable to me but ridiculous to the outside. I had been lulled and lulled into listening, following along. Sometimes believing the absurd. Even if I resisted that narrative played on so long the only way to survive was to play into it.

Then it tried to kill me.

Oblivion is supposed to be a death sentence.

That I “broke it’ll at least 20 times in just the past two years was inconvenient for everyone and they piled on stories and stigma, pulling in anyone they could to end me.

And almost succeeded.

God and a skilled surgeon said no.

And several individuals decided they were out before they aided in ending me.

Because I prayed for hope. I wanted to glue society together a bit. Be a beacon of hope. I had to be ruined. My reputation destroyed. My ability to remain calm and nice in shreds.

And jealous women were manipulated into ensuring it. American vs American.

Can’t go to direct war so they pull us apart from the inside. Set us as each other’s throats.

Because some knew I wanted to be part of love and light and fought furiously with the callous and cruel – exhausting them on individuals as sympathetic as stone.

I keep returning to my life’s purpose. To what god wants from me. Which is to provide hope and facilitate communication. Help save the world by learning to protect the way we communicate

So I’m not just a target because I defie locally abusive individuals. Though it doesn’t help.

I’m a permanent target because I love everyone in this world and they’re squabbling right now. My ideas gain traction America will heal.

And enemies of our cooperation do not want that.

Victim

With abuse as prevalent in America it’s no surprise that Victims are frequently looked down upon. Wrong as that is.

I didn’t want to admit to being one for a while after my divorce.

It made me feel weak.

That’s the wrong attitude to have.

Victim

I also, for a long time felt admitting it made me seem stupid.

Victim

It’s okay if you have these two issues facing what has happened to you.

Being the victim doesn’t make you stupid. Some people are just that huge an arsehole.

Some are that good at lying.

Some are that desperate for power.

Some won’t give you the space to be anything else, twisting your honor back at you so there’s no way to stay sane.

Reactive abuse, and weaker on stronger abuse relies on the honor of their victim.

With the latter, you’re too strong, too powerful, too capable to be able to fight back.

It doesn’t make you stupid or weak.

Victim

Indeed most abuse is heavily dependent on inner jealousy by the abuser, or lack of control in the rest of their lives.

Victim

If it’s about you it’s because they perceive you as so much better you have to be torn down.

Victim

If they lack power in other ways and are taking it out on you it’s about their boss, their community, this society, this country.

Not you.

Victim

I survived all kinds of crap from others, before accepting the word

Victim

It has been a journey. And it’s ever present in the background for some while trying to recover – fertile ground for another to destroy you.

Victim

It’s even mocked

“A victim mentality”

Are they talking about those who are abusive who wrap being a victim around themselves like they enjoy it?

Or a victim who has so often – and so deeply been abused. They have developed an awareness for it.

Because the latter seems practical.

The society (run by abusive arseholes) seems to dissect the strata that abusers are somehow higher on some scale somewhere – than victims.

Because abusive arseholes step on the backs of anyone they perceive to be in their way, or are jealous of. (Or both)

But then they get mighty fed up of actual victims getting actual support. You survive abuse and a target pops on your back out of further jealousy and a misplaced sense of power.

Indeed abuse is about power and control (to point it out, yet again). So they see one person’s victim as anyone’s victim. So to them? Why can’t they be an arsehole too?

Imagine the frustration and fury when, in this society, you refuse to be ashamed that someone put a target on your back and everyone’s pot shots almost killed you.

Victim

Victim

Victim

I’m the bogeyman apparently because I’m not scared or ashamed to say

I am a victim

Of such harassment and abuse I have come to understand we need to hear and grow comfortable with the word

Victim

For us to progress away from abuse we need to to grow comfortable with seeing the word and balancing out.

What more can I say there that I haven’t already?

Just that I am not going to shy away from accepting that I have been their:

Victim.

I am not an aristocrat

I am not bougosie

I am a proletariat

Not a plebeian.

That’s the class order as being used. Please google them if popping them in order doesn’t jog your memory of being taught about the French Revolution.

(By reports the word plebeian has too many conflicting results. As used by a class system they’re ruffians and criminals)

I’m not saying a class system is good. Just where I am on the scale.

---

Quick reminder for the purpose of using it.

Aristocrats tend to be nasty to everyone.

The bouguasie suck up to aristocrats and are nasty to proletariats

Proletariats are kind of sick of them all and the economy is mostly made of the much looked down class full of “the working class” and artists.

Plebeians seem to hate everyone.

(Scroll to the end – past the first and second pictures – for a laugh)

This has all been so confusing this has a summary in the middle.

I was an emotional eater quite a while ago. Until I managed to pin it down to Diet Coke. And now if I get upset I have a sugar free cola.

It keeps me going.

Stuffing your feelings away, like I used to, isn’t healthy but it’s not the same as a binge.

A binge is a sudden massive amount of food, usually unhealthy food. It’s not just a comfort food – maybe to excess.

It’s pure excess. And it’s unpleasant.

Bulimics will attest. They’re not really enjoying the process. They are just making themselves feel sick.

Like I did with malitol sweetened chocolate.

I knew what it was. I first came across malitol in my late teens. It’s not like the bloating and gas, the diarrhea and general puky feeling is unfamiliar.

I knew what to expect.

But I recently reached for the nasty stuff when stress hit.

I can’t decide if it’s worse or better than my recent and previously reoccurring bouts of anorexia.

The difference? Bulimics – as I had been in the past with laxatives. Eat until they’re sick and only a few vomit it up. Most crap it out. Some over exercise.

Anorexics become obsessed with controlling food and begin to enjoy feeling hungry.

It seems I could get past satisfaction with starvation. But bulimia returned.

I had forgotten how it felt to be sick like this. It’s unpleasant but also satisfying – the same weird negative sense anorexia gives.

And like that weird passion the urge to draw my own blood brings up. Slowed down. Mellowed. But ever present during a successful binge.

It’s not a method of constant control but a way of suppressing an emotional spike.

That’s why anorexic bulimics exist. Tight control over food until an emotional spike makes you sick!

It’s not like I don’t know how I’m supposed to eat. I just don’t care. And now a different disorder is back.

Do I need to be direct? Eating disorders are a stress response. They’re not about body image. They’re a form of self harm.

I ate enough candy to feel sick and fell asleep. The nap was decent and kept me out of the world of everyone around me losing their minds again that I won’t just take their abuse with no comment.

So they can steal from me.

Of course I sound paranoid. Assholes are playing into mental illness to gaslight and steal from me and I can’t get anyone to listen.

While everyone around me seems to already know and just call me names, including paranoid, to control me.

So they could steal, and have a punching bag.

Of course it’s not the same if the victim doesn’t fight back when you use reactive abuse.

So you can steal, have a punching bag, and scapegoat.

Yes indeed. Welcome to exposing reactive abuse. A good twenty years after the laxatives and appetite suppressant gum, I need to lose 69 lbs and am big and muscular on a large boned short fat person.

I was returning to Diet Coke as my comfort strategy that I developed ten years ago.

Meds had packed on pounds on top of that from emotional eating so it was necessary.

Tonight. Bulimia returned.

I feel sick and slightly satisfied.

This is not healthy.

But neither are the circumstances I’m being asked to endure so you can continue to steal from me, use me as a punching bag and scapegoat and complain I’m abusive if I rebuke you.

Sorry it’s death or an upset stomach. So right now the latter you abusive arseholes. You used Bluetooth to invade my earbuds to mutter and play music during a thunderstorm.

Thunderstorms aren’t the same as white noise. I do not hallucinate during the sound of thunderstorms. It was real audio and a real invasion and the last hope I had to cope.

And you took it from me.

But oh no, you don’t actually want me to kill myself you just tell me to kill myself because it’s some sick twisted joke.

And I’m supposed to shy away from saying you’re making me suicidal. Every night. A hospital can’t take me. I’m fine if you don’t push and push and push.

They’ll send me home to fewer belongings because you staked the place out so you can steal, have a punching bag, and scapegoat that you’ve lied about so much others think I deserve it.

WTF is wrong with you?

WTF is wrong with America that you think you can manipulate stigma and lies to make this all socially acceptable?

So bulimia it is.

And I refuse to be ashamed of it.

The best part is, it’s a coping mechanism for handling an environment of women who tell me outright to kill myself. But don’t like me coping in any way at all so if it’s negative it’s my fault they “feel bad”

How does a corpse sound then?

I. Tried. To. Kill. Myself. Last year.

It’s by the grace of God I survived.

So if you feel a twinge of guilt over my return to eating disorders? You should. Now imagine the result is worse.

Because part of me would still rather give you what you say you want, which is for me to kill myself. Because I’m surrounded by such awfulness I can only survive in an unhealthy way.

And part of me would rather die than listen to your lies and abuse for one more minute.

But as often as you say, “kill yourself”, you’re not rebuked. But I have to suggest death just once and you crash down on a suicidal individual like the repercussions should only be experienced by the victim.

So which is it? Does it matter anymore? Bulimia isn’t something you “snap out of” you ignorant fool.

But it might be here to stay. Even exposing you is considered nasty by you and your coterie – I’m the problem because I don’t just soak your abuse. So none of you ever change.

You gaslight, move things, steal and return them. So I can’t ever find anything and have to search through everything with you saying you stole it whether you did or not. Just to demoralize and discredit me when you make off with something for real.

Testing your boundaries and what you can get away with.

Calling me a crybaby and a snitch for reporting every last thing you steal.

And if I allow the US government to use my growing digital signature to catch an international ring that provides technological backing if you only become a professional thief? Maybe try to be a slave handler?

Apparently I’m considered a fascist [I don’t like that word either. Censored]

Oh you tell me to kill myself to drive me to a hospital so you can safely steal from me?

You’re more likely to get a dead body that way.

How many have you racked up and brushed off. You said go to a hospital so why should you take responsibility for your abuse? In your mind anyway.

You lying, murderous, gaslighting, abusive ring of thieves.

Leave me, my things, and my cat alone.

Not that you care about what I want. It’s just an avenue to abuse anyway.

To sum up:

You steal identities, belongings and work.

And peace of mind.

Some of it done through computer vulnerabilities like bluetooth (since itt can’t be turned off), backdoors designed for testing, software meant for the police to use, and installing firmware updates that hose a computer with a fake operating system on top.

(You always break system preferences. And can’t avoid it)

You then use gaslighting, harassment and reactive abuse to disguise your tracks.

And the gaslighting became so elaborate you stole my privacy so people could laugh at me. Because it’s impossible trying to unravel the truth with the amount of bull crap you shoveled.

You have technological backing and lots of google plays to create your espionage, gaslighting, and the development of a scapegoat.

I have no freedom for my soul to heal because you practically also sell tickets to play “angels and demons” or treat me as an emotional punching bag. Or so you can try to have power and control.

The boss fight.

You also practically sold tickets to a peep show when “the fat Sylvanna” got naked. Some of you exchanging bets at my expense.

The only thing you haven’t sold is my body and you’ve been trying.

It’s all real but save the reasons given. Because I’m not real to you.

I don’t matter.

I’m a thing.

A commodity.

Why? Because I’m disabled? Or some other crappy reason.

You’re just a bunch of thieves and arseholes. And the patsies having a good laugh at me. Maybe testing out their abuse on a pay to play system that treats me as sub human.

And keeps me that way.

I did come back to reality, and it’s inconvenient for you.

I’m dealing with the return of an eating disorder because of you and you’re gloating you hope I get sick.

You

[ I don’t think we need these swear words. Censored]

But you don’t care.

Because I’m not even real to you.

As a side clarification. I don’t wear makeup in most posts. Or use filters. I really do look like this. So bugger off with your “too much makeup” you [oh my goodness! Censored]

That picture above has me with moisturizer coating my face. The one below is not “too much lipstick” it’s my natural lips after salty rice cakes. Are you now going to criticize my diet food?

There is something wrong with you.

And I’m keeping the “ugly photo” it’s not “what I really look like” it’s my face contorted by rage you stupid [let’s not! Censored].

Maybe you could avoid the reactive abuse if furious photos are going to be sniped at as “not my best.”

No you stupid [I don’t think I should know that word. Censored]

Anger isn’t pretty.

But neither are your lies, the gaslighting, and constant criticism meant to demoralize me. Some of you just say anything to hurt me even if it makes you sound stupid.

Here’s a particularly pretty one.

Since you’re expecting makeup and I don’t feel like complying.

Let me piece this together because there seems to be some confusion on the full picture.

The lying, the abuse, the gaslighting, and character assassination were to:

Hide thievery.

Most abuse used reactive abuse to make me seem the problem. I had already written the only book on the subject despite the severe PTSD from a relationship bathed in the abuse my ex spouse poured on me.

So they had to stop the book:

Game over.

My belongings were mined for worth, pictures taken to sell them in advance – even my beloved cat. Over my dead body will she be taken from me, and we’re all willing to arrange that. So it’s a matter of time before thieves become outright murderers.

If they succeed. My body is very fragile but held together by some massive muscles that are flexible and fast. And I’m willing to crack bone to defend Tabitha.

I’d rather not. But attacking me will briefly change my mind on that.

Never attack someone with a death-wish you [oh censored]

The lies and gaslighting were to hide activities. Blocking the book was a way to whip up [censored] and stigma was another method.

To hide thievery.

My writing was stolen, and an AI trained with my various writing voices. Thievery everyone kind of liked because they believed the lies and the stigma.

So even my work was taken so sod off with your “Trabajo”. What I can accomplish despite ever worsening PTSD isn’t enough to pay the bills. That which isn’t stolen as I type.

My identity was stolen and my history “borrowed”. Because it was sold to them like my now useless European passport. Maybe my birth certificate as well.

Lies, gaslighting, abuse, torture?

All very expensive ways to keep me from learning what’s really happening.

And a lot of you seemed to know.

And hid it from me.

Bugger off.

About time I figured it out? You’re now complaining your abuse and gaslighting was successful ? Would my death make you happier?

Because I said what you were doing was lethal and it came close last year. So you just waited till I started to improve to do it again. Relying on my pact with God to survive, so you can keep thieving, buying stolen goods, or ignoring the situation.

I should kill myself rather than be on the same planet as you.

And boy are you testing limits.

Any day now apparently you’ll again begin selling the rights to use equipment to torture me.

Experiments on a live subject.

Again.

Yeah just kill me outright you abusive arseholes.

Reality is. You’re either ignorant stigma filled [censored], thieves, or are letting it happen with a shroud of self imposed ignorance- or successful gaslighting on their part.

Law enforcement aside. Because I trust there are reasons you haven’t been stopped by them.

I am sent earbuds to listen to a thunderstorm to avoid your abuse and you try to up the anti – loudly so – with crap outside. Because why?

You’re really hoping I’ll kill myself? This wasn’t out yet when I wrote if you ruin my last coping method? I’m out. You do that? It’s clear you’re all murderers.

But I’ll be in heaven quite literally.

Which is better than sharing a planet with thieves as abusive as you.

Yeah.. You’re mucking with them right now you murderous arseholes. Apparently even a real potential corpse isn’t enough to stop your abuse.

I should have stayed dead..

What do you hope? I’ll believe they’re hallucinations you [wow censored!]? I’m sinking fast which is what you want.

And no one is listening that you’re killing me.

My own sister doesn’t understand how easy it is for you to screw me over.

All I had to hear was already paired earbuds announce, “pairing”. To be certain it’s not just my PTSD or white noise. They can be paired with more than one device because Bluetooth isn’t secure.

And no one is listening to me.

I want to die.

So the rest of you can bugger off. All I wanted was to return to my sweet nature. Which doesn’t mean I’m a permanent “mark” and any rebuke is “abuse” you [good grief! Censored]

And an AI that just counts the number of time I swear to label it as potentially abusive is potentially stupid or compromised.

I can’t really return to who I want to be anyway You keep prodding with your crap till I seem like the problem to the few bystanders not in the know.

To hide thievery.

Ahhh finally an honest statement. I know too much or some crap? And they indeed do want a corpse. I’m counting the hours till they get their wish.

To hide thievery

The whole building is up in arms it seems – well at least this small segment. The rest probably would like to be left alone.

Why?

I called out thieves and stigma-fueled ignorant bitches.

Not personally. I know no names.

But enough people felt it was about them to become mighty moody.

Self exposed assholes.

I didn’t mention the gaslighting in the post earlier today. We can lump it nicely or (not) into harassment.

But there’s a specific reason to use reality abuse and gaslighting. And that goes beyond control and pushing a person to suicide.

It’s like a nasty drug you don’t want. Keep your stress hormones damaging your brain and organs, and they keep you from calling the police over Proffessional level thievery and the proffessional thieves never get caught.

I initially didn’t really consider the idea there could be an international organization that goes beyond some form of thieves guild.

Things are staked and stolen. Why hide fenced goods when they just choose in advance and steal when they’ve already sold your stuff, “Marks” gaslighted into being too exhausted to notice in time.

The lies, and lies and lies also make others feel justified in at least letting it happen. Ruining a reputation to create an excuse to steal.

And they squeeze everything remotely valuable from you. So I wouldn’t be surprised if they had ties to sex traffickers.

Stealing a body.

Failing direct slavery maybe they could hook you into drugs and persuade you to become a whore.

Stealing your independence.

My mathematical mind is too advanced for them to understand and recognize. Not that they care. They can’t steal and sell that.

But I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the hospital that housed me when I had been mutilated (during a coma) had someone think they could steal my dead body.

Yes my information was to go to science. Not my genitalia and living body. But who can tell through the lies and gaslighting.

Did you sell my living organs?

I so wouldn’t be surprised.

So who am I to go up against a group as likely powerful as an international organization of stolen goods?

Well it’s do that or die. And while they make suicide tempting, I have to remember I’m being mined and gaslighted. My very soul something they’d like to steal as a false prophet steals my words as written.

I barely have a penny to my name but bitches lie and say I’m wealthy to keep people stealing.

They lie about the family they gaslighted. That I come from a wealth when my father’s mother was a fishmonger in Hull, Yorkshire and my parents shared an egg for dinner. When they were young. They had to abandon everything they had overnight to escape a dangerous country.

The Cold War was terrifying.

Anything they have they worked hard for. And isn’t mine!

I don’t have strong enough swear words for you. There’s a history you don’t care about. A life that is meaningless to you. And while you say your goal is to incapacitate me it’s just so you can steal some more.

I hope you’re caught.

I hope the US government took photos too, of every belonging I have, and just have a constant image matching hunt going.

I hope anyone who buys the AI to use for writing is driven to the ground by shame.

I want you all to get yours.

I suppose I’ll have to live long enough and try to prevent you fucking gaslighting thieves from stealing much more.

Oh I hear you screaming “Trabajo” out there. It means work.

What lies has she been told this time?

I’d love to work. But I can’t consistently produce… anything. Particularly now the abuse and gaslighting skewered my mind with ever compounding PTSD.

My body is disabled so manual labor is out too.

And I’m not ever becoming a whore.

But I might be able to translate ASL part time. And/or become a part time academic. I’m on a list waiting for funding for training.

If that’s okay with you, judgmental bitch that you are?

Last night someone was after Genevieve.

That’s the name of my iPad. And someone here knows it. And can guess what’s on it.

Fuck her.

Fuck you all.

Apparently even this brief blog post requires a TLDR

Stigma is being used as a way of manipulating ignorant people into protecting thieves.

And

If you don’t have an issue with me because of stigma or protecting thievery – this post doesn’t apply to you.

And?

To those who do have an issue with me:

Fuck you.

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It seems we might have boiled the situation down and Stigma, as offensive as it is, has been used as an excuse and to control ignorant shits.

As established, my vast and diverse body of work was stolen to train an AI. I change my voice per genre and that’s quite a few! But they are all me and all good.

They should be by now.

Someone, several someone’s want to use the AI based on my writing. So many they’ve whipped stigma into place and kept me hacked so the world can continue to steal from me.

Barring driving me to suicide you’d rather I didn’t write again because AI revenge publishing is a thing. And it would get noticed mighty quickly who you have all stolen from.

Do I have comment?

Does it need one?

Fuck you.

Apparently someone thought Tabitha looked so much like a bobcat they thought they would get away with taking a therapy cat from me.

Do I have comment on that?

Does the only reason I keep surviving being so threatened she’s scared to be without me, really need more pointed out?

Fuck you.

I want out.

And you don’t want me unshackled from the hacking done to me.

You’d rather mangle my body and steal my cat than let me learn the truth.

Fuck you.

I want out and no one is really giving me a better reason than Tabitha.

Fuck you.

There’s your comment.

If you are incapable of realizing how awful you have been, how much you have stolen, and think shitting on me and hiding behind stigma is better than the actual truth?

Fuck you.

As an addendum: if your issue is stigma? You’re an ignorant bitch. If you’re a thief manipulating stigma than you’re a bitch. If it’s not either? It’s not about you.

Getting mad as this post suggests you’re one of those first two.

For all I know is there’s a whole industry of stolen books I sure hope will be brought down if they use my work. Since the US intelligence services don’t need but do have my permission to use my entire, past, present and growing digital signatures to catch them.

They’re probably causing suicides.

Though that I’m sure pisses off a few into manipulation and control.

Addendum Two. Of course having my writing stolen, my reputation trashed, my body mutilated, my digital life hacked, being harassed and harangued and anything else I missed is going to make me cry.

If all that makes me suicidal. Crying is a minor issue and would be a good thing if bitches didn’t interrupt the healing process.

Also

Tabitha is half Maine coon, half bengal. And all mine. She’s not for sale. Ever.