Sylvanna Devlin

Rape is about power and control, with a man pleasing himself in the process. We forget that they’re enjoying themselves. And tend to only consider the psychological side. But ultimately they are entitled assholes who “want what they want”

if you don’t recognize the saying, it might help to read a book once in a while.

A textbook could help.

Yep I’m that mad.

I’m dealing with what has been said to be stupidity. But it’s not. It’s entitled women mentality raping me for power and control, while they enjoy trying to hurt me.

My attention seems to be delicious.

So here we go. How do you cope with being raped every night? I mean extreme right? But women (myself included) have had that experience.

First I ran. And ran again, and again. Even groomed you have an instinct for self preservation. What do you do before running? Other than publicly shaming them?

You entitled bitches aren’t stupid, you’re presumptuous because you’re mental rapists.

Reactive abuse is psychological rape.

I’m still working on a way to cope with rapists. Invasive, presumptuous, entitled, psychological rapists.

Repetition helps.

My private journal would help.

But… issues with privacy are an issue.

So to “enjoy myself”. These women are presumptuous, entitled, rapists who don’t understand consent and when it is okay to do something someone enjoys – which is putting bitches in their place permanently.

So while you will continue you use psychological rape?

I will continue to enjoy pointing it out on my blog.

You don’t have to read it.

I’m not sure if they assume we’re so stupid we can’t tell the difference. Or they can’t.

But that’s rapists for you.

Writing about presumptius. Mental Rapists who feel entitled to suggest I brush my hair for my own selfie, on my own blog, taken in privacy, on my own phone.

So here’s my current mood.

I don’t know what’s going on.

To sum u:p:

I’ve been really depressed but I finally made plans for my life to progress. I’m disabled but I think I can work as a part time ASL translator – I’m just on the waitlist for classes.

I hope to move on to a BS in mathematics and an MA in communication. (I have a BA in communication)

It may take some clerical wriggling. To do both at once. But I could probably persuade them once I’m in the masters program.

I’m mathematically gifted but didn’t pursue it. But now want to work with human computer interaction. With a focus on Data Exhaustion.

There’s a good PHD program in Seattle.

It’s more than placing my identity in my writing.

I wanted to be a writer since I was 9. I’m 47. I’ve gotten pretty good but placed my whole identity on that and it’s not enough.

But I have just received a good review of my self published book and my Dad is very excited and was encouraging.

That meant a lot to me.

I have a sequel planned but am just taking notes right now.

I need to loose some weight and I’d like to bellydance again. But first I need to improve my posture.

My life had me slumped forward and I’m trying to fix it. But I do have the PT tools to help and I remember what to do.

I have a particular spiritual book can take notes on too. The reason I’m on this planet. So I even have a sense of meaning,

I should be okay. But I’m not. My fibromyalgia flared and my lower back is making it hard to move. I feel like I woke in a broken body. I struggle to turn over in bed.

I considered the hospital during a spike yesterday. My tailbone is pulling everything to it and my hips hurt!

They’re just hurdles. Others have managed them before. And that’s a pretty bright future I’ve planned out.

I have the impulse to just give up, but not the ideation. My cat would be annoyed and my sister is going through enough. As is my brother in law. My parents have struggled and it would be like a cannon ball wrecking their well earned calmer lives.

I also had an attempt back last year and don’t want to let the team that saved my life down. It took major surgery and 3 weeks in the hospital.

But I just snapped and want to give up. I snap again and I might. I don’t want to. But I don’t want to be this miserable.

I spend each day “just making it through.” I don’t even know what I’m waiting out anymore.

I can’t do this. I need divine help. The stairs up are before me and I’m collapsed on the first one.

Without going into detail I agreed to stick close to home and focus on my physical health this year. I could practice the ASL alphabet and learn one language. But otherwise it was weight loss and dancing.

I’m currently very isolated.

And my surroundings are toxic.

I need to move and don’t know if I can. Or how. I wasn’t going to, but it became an option despite other circumstances.

I just don’t know how.

It’s imperative I survive. Essential in a way I can’t delve into. But my toxic bullies just say, “Honey, that was gaslighting.”

I should live anyway. Follow the required restrictions. Better to be safe.

It keeps me alive.

I just don’t want to be.

To begin to wonder if the wealthy bitch stealing my work isn’t trying to draw certain, specific attention to her like a mouse trap with fake cheese

Just as a supposition.

Then we have a doppelgänger trying to lure in others and shit on me.

I’m inconveniently still alive.

Being upset about my book is just a convenient excuse to stir the blood.

And I’m in a toxic environment that is very upset with me but most don’t even know why.

Say I had been tormented into being disruptive? To others I’d seem like that so I don’t seem worth the effort.

Even if I started as the problem I couldn’t settle down and return to my inner sweetheart because they won’t let me.

It doesn’t matter what people believe of how I was and what I became to be. I want my soul to heal now and they don’t seem to want to give me the room to lick my wounds and change.

How am I to regain my hope if I can’t change?

Whether I’m changing back into what I was or moving forward they want to pin me in place as an emotional punching bag.

The book is just an excuse.

Yep that sounds like the plot of a book and my experience.

Toxic environments are hard to cope with – as well as specific abuse from an individual or group. Being targeted is no fun and the tactics all have one counter whether you’re trying to hold on to the world or just your soul.

Without describing all the ways toxic environments, cumulative abuse, emotional abuse, and reality abuse can mess with your head. Let’s dive in to my core idea of emotional TaI Chi

With each attack made on our souls

Let R.EA.L

Let it in

Recognize what it is

Evaluate its use to you

Let go.

I have a bit of work to do before I can explain further.

Either it’s gaslighting or the fundamental reason behind everything- some bitch out there fakes every word I write and makes it her own.

Whomever gave her the money to hack steal, and try to corral me she had a military sized budget.

The gaslighting and harassment was supposed to make me too paranoid to do anything else. I had to stay home and write.

The continued noises are to make me so miserable I don’t take care of myself or my environment and just try to write my pain away.

So she can steal every word and pass it off as her own.

I can’t live like this.

Women around here are indeed just that to toxic

But because they think I’m some wealthy bitch trying out “poverty tourism.”

They steal from me because they think I can afford to replace it. And it was just bought for the looks anyway – not the original sentimental source. I don’t have the money and the history is irreplaceable.

Fuck you, other Melissa Devlin. This one is tired of everyone who believes it’s a split personality and not your thievery.

I can’t create under these circumstances.

And the only satisfaction is that means she has nothing to steal.

I need her reigned in and. stopped.

But no one even listens to the problem.

That hack and bitch. Who is too wealthy to want to work at Being a writer. She’d rather steal everything from me.

She creates experiences in the hopes she can pretend she has them.

The shallow, fucking, talentless bitch.

No one stops her.

I want out.

While our problems tend to be financial like everyone else, periods, and toxic individuals. There are some great things about being a woman.

It’s so comforting to hear anyone help me remember the correct meaning of a phrase when I’ve clearly forgotten. But it’s particularly well received from a feminine voice. For me and others. For me I’m relieved to receive kindness from other women. But that kindness is associated with being a woman.

Men are kind to me and other women might be annoyed. And other men might question it too. But kindness from women is better received by all genders. A kind woman is not questioned on the motivations for being so!

Women tend to be associated with comfort. I imagine it will be easier to get part time ASL translation work if eyes on me are more comfortable. You have to be willing to be stared at for the duration of a lecture or meeting – so comfortable with being looked at. And that makes some men uneasy and some very insecure of their looks.

We get all the fun toys. Wax kits, hair rollers, a very diverse range of toys for sexual health (you can even get a clitoris sucker) makeup if it’s your thing – and a huge variety there. Facial soaps, scrubs, masks, and moisturizers. Body moisturizers. Hands. Feet. Oils and creams. For some of us fake nails. It’s fun but not relaxing to preen but it makes for quite the coping mechanism.

I find such things to be a healthy distraction and comforting to do. Moisturizing takes very little effort but is so darn soothing!

I imagine if I relaxed with a glass of Nonalcoholic wine and a book I could add a blanket and maybe do it in bed.

But men wouldn’t be as comfortable and expect side-eye from others. You know the look. They’re not really changing their focus but the disdain can be felt through a glance in the direction of peripheral vision.

Indeed, no offense to men, but the best thing about being a woman is that we can skip out on the pressure men place on each other.

Cat ladies are cute. Male cat lovers are questioned. Like gender affects the love of a fuzz bucket.

There’s no expectation of instant perfect driving. It’s a better experience to learn, even if we’ve never been on that side of the car. It’s good to have skill but it’s easier to learn escape driving when you’re not judged. Parking help is less embarrassing too. I could park on a dime. Because I wasn’t embarrassed to be taught! (And yes it was by men)

Men love sharing their hobbies and cars and car events are a pretty good bonding experience. They find us cute if we’re interested too. There’s a lot about very fast large machinery to love. So interest has to be genuine. But as long as you’re the listener women are expected to be? That’s hours of hearing about hobbies.

Some are frustrated by such expectations. But is it the worst thing in the world to be assumed to be caring? A default perception of the likelihood of kindness?

I did annoy someone when I asked my boyfriend to come back “because I’m a girl and I’m scared”. It meant my ego wasn’t buried in such appearances and I could admit to fear. Women are given room to be more emotionally expressive and tend to be more likely to be considered trustworthy.

Male nurses are still weird to some and other support roles While it seems annoying they’re consider women’s jobs – the frustration is felt by all of us.

It can be difficult to be a woman in a male dominated environment. But that’s changing. High level bosses and doctors tend to have had to tough it out and some women get a little pissy about being an authority and don’t take criticism or rebuke well. But us women get to bitch about it to each other with freedom. And those women who lead without developing a hard edge are adored!

We’re considered softer. And some find that too much of a restriction I say we celebrate it. Cry when we need to and laugh with infectious joy.

Speaking from experience, weight loss is difficult, but even super tubby you can feel super sexy without it and that is plain harder for men. We might complain about another gym visit but it’s not just other men who comment on an oversized beer gut.

Though I swear those who get chonky love the sensual side of life and that translates to a lot of fun in the bedroom!

Some of us get very lucky with distribution anyway.

Women can be competitive and cruel. Some more likely to tear down another woman than a man is. But the ladies can gather and bitch about bitches with impunity.

It’s a double edged sword. Dishonest women can be spread their bullshit through gossip and said cruelty. But a good old communal bitching isn’t the same as spreading secrets and lies!

Besides the rest of us are just as fed up with prima donnas.

It’s been upsetting to have my womanhood questioned and even some nasty comments on my period underwear in the dryer.

“She doesn’t need that”

Yes I fucking do.

But most women don’t involve themselves in the nasty games that give women a bad reputation.

We like being perceived as softer and kind. I’m a ferocious dragon if under attack but would rather not be.

And while I can physically and emotionally defend myself it’s so comforting to take a backseat when a man is feeling protective.

Why should I whinge? I’m a woman. I’m not expected to handle danger head on. I do. But I’d rather not.

The perception of women as gentle and sweet is why I like being a woman. It’s easier to return to my inner nature and be a nurturer. Men find such softness questionable in each other.

Indeed it’s possible I’ve been prodded into snapping and snarling so all men see is the ferocious beast that they wake. But frankly I’m exhausted of it all. But I’m more likely to be defended and given emotional room than men could expect.

Sure I’m saying the good thing about women is the expectations of us are not usually as toxic as men have for each other. So being a man would be undesirable.

But what do they have besides being able to avoid bleeding once a month? Being a woman gives me freedom I see my male friends restricted from.

A woman in a man’s world is more likely to be welcomed than a man in a woman’s environment. You get fewer rape threats around men. Most get mighty protective. But you’re in a house of women and one threat is given to all of us.

Most men are just as upset at rapists as women and are fed up as being perceived a potential danger just for their gender. Women complain #notallmen is used for derailing #yesallwomen and it can be. But some get a bit sensitive about being a potential enemy before they open their mouths. There’s no good hashtag for that!

Sometimes women need the mic. Sometimes they have to fight for it. So derailing from issues is a frustrating thing to experience. But what should men say if they’re just as appalled?

Well in a woman’s space nothing. But in the outer world we need men to speak up too. And a lot of women don’t differentiate. We need safe spaces to talk. But we can’t make the whole world like that.

Ultimately the best thing about being a women is what others complain about. It’s the likelihood I’ll be assumed to be gentle and caring – and won’t be mocked for such. I’m given room to be myself- or the me I want to be. Because I’m a woman.

There are bad things for sure. But at least I’m not a man!

Men, I love you. But I sure don’t want to be on your side of life!

So far those harassing me insert into a conversation with another and get a reply too – or are so nasty I say something back.

Then they tell others they are “just talking to me”

Constantly, 24-7 whether I’m sleeping or not they’re spiteful words use wounds another created, but they can get away with arguing I’m too thin skimmed. They’re just rude I shouldn’t be so crumpled by “just one thing” (from all of them)

I snap back? And no one understands why. They will make look like the monster because they continue to attack but with “just words”

That trigger wounds. And PTSD

They argue gaslighting is “just a story. Just lying.” That it’s not dangerous and emotionally violent for them to use regular looking sentences with the intent to get away with manslaughter.

It’s slippery, nasty and spiteful. But sliding around reality is what they do.

I say “fuck you?” Or “fuck off?” Because yet another member of their cult-click “just been gossiping” past my window. I’m considered the difficulty by outsiders. Well only to women who want an excuse to continue.

But the police can’t stop someone from gossiping, being rude, just talking, just offering suggestions. Never mind it’s en masse by their cult-click unasked for and unwanted. Never mind their intent is to wound and everyone knows they’re the asshole. But they get away with it. No consequences for them.

Bitches like them just continue without being stopped.

Their lies and trigger points hurt more than anything.

And they do this to their boyfriends – and feel entitled to. But men are the ones who have to shoulder the weight upon them.

The weight of toxic femininity. Sly, manipulative, spiteful- but so underhanded they say they can get away with them through a flitter their eyes.

They use attraction like a weapon. Either to slip away or to get a few drink for the exchange of a fake number.

It’s not that nasty men don’t exist. Pick up artists are the gross underbelly of the social scene. Their tactics are shared, written about, and written off.

Like certain women they also try withholding affection. It seems to be the carrot on a stick routine is an American issue that spans genders.

And their tactics of “negging” and bringing the beautiful down a notch? Women do it so frequently pick up artists get away with it.

You want to stop P.U.As? Stop shredding other women because we come to expect bad behavior. We don’t notice their bullshit because it’s the fucking same manipulative crap women use.

Some men sometimes want a one nighter and some women just want a few free drinks.

Some women are part of the problem. PUAs feel entitled because manipulative women are trying to “work it” too.

Don’t get me wrong. They’re still assholes. But you want better, be better,

You can’t stop these men by tearing into other women. Form genuine sisterhood and protect each other. Not a click or a cult-click. But behavior that builds not tears.

We are not getting anywhere till we stop underhanded women from giving underhanded men an excuse.

I am not getting anywhere till toxic women stop the abuse. They want me to move? They need to be patient because I’d like to.

Meanwhile I can’t afford a single cross word. Because they know their words are as swords to me – but not why. And sound basic to an outsider.

Eyelid flitter, “All I said was, I’m exhausted of you.”

“Come back to reality”

“I’m just rude.”

“Her reaction is the problem. She blames me, and I swear whatever she’s upset about isn’t in this reality. I am exhausted of her!”

Okay. Fine. Everyone knows there are stories about those phrases and trigger points. They repeat them to be nasty.

But since they genuinely don’t know why?

Flitter, flitter, “I don’t know why she reacts that way.”

I’m sleeping and some bitch says “If I snap my fingers, you’ll wake in reality.”

Because that’s what you say to a sleeping person.

I’ve snapped and sworn because they are deliberately trying to hurt me. But from them it’s mental bludgeoning. The weapon seems like a harmless verbal baseball bat.

People turn against me in advance. I seem disruptive and difficult. No one believes I want to be kind and thoughtful. And now they won’t let me seem it.

Prod the dragon and she either breaths fire or ends in the hospital. You don’t stop and I seem scary.

Reactive abuse is sneaky that way.

I’ve had no patience for a single attempt from a newcomer. They really are just that toxic – and then become nasty when they don’t understand a reaction. But they know it hurts so they start repeating it.

I really will be driven to suicide and these women are so toxic it’s possible it’s no longer a dangerous incident I’d like to leave in the past. Not a particular individual I’d rather not mention but: giggle gaggle, they’ll pretend to be one just like him.

“She believes it! That’s so funny!”

It’s invasive and hacking. It’s constant harassment. And the men around, also harassed and harangued by their girlfriends, also just see an extreme reaction.

They say “Hey watch this.”

They say “None of that really happened”.

(Not that they know at all what it was, just that it will hurt me to say it.)

“Look she blows up over nothing”

I can’t survive this. And to them they are just fooling around because they just are:

That toxic.

They’re not part of what happened. They’re “new here” and what they are doing doesn’t have an agenda.

They are just that toxic.

They don’t question why equipment exists for their words to reach me. And mine to be heard by them. They snipe on the way past. And appear to invade my privacy on my phone.

But if I’m using it to write at all?

“Write this, write that. Please come back to reality.” Some clearly have access to what I write. But others are just chiming in to hurt me without any context.

They don’t question who put the equipment there. That allows them to access me.

Giggle gaggle, “She reacts over nothing.”

They are just that toxic.

“Come back to reality.”

Your lies and gaslighting is just part of what you’re like. You don’t know what happened and it’s not a question if you believe or not – how could you? You just know denying will get a reaction beyond belief.

I am not given room to quietly heal.

The instant I speak, maybe whisper. I’m told to be quiet. I have no patience and am not exactly in the mood to be nice for being on the receiving end of bullying. And if I reply “just shut up”

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”

I can’t survive this and it’s possible they don’t even understand why.

They’re just that toxic.

Entitlement is somewhat recognized. And it’s everywhere. Particularly if an individual wrongfully assumes someone else is better off because what few belongings they have left are nice but very old.

I had a middle class life when I worked for Stanford. Even in the Bay Area the pay was really good.

But I’m on disability now. The supplemental kind. It’s about a third of what Stanford paid me. But it wasn’t nothing.

If America defines class by economic standing I’m one up from homeless and to some wealthy assholes I no longer count.

I ran from an abusive situation twice – the second time with complicated conditions. My father was micromanaging but the abuse was not by him – he was anxious as the trouble there was shared but separately we blamed each other in a vacuum of communication.

Having been tortured and tormented by my abuser. Lied about and blame levied on me. Lies of revolting behavior struck us both. I was upset he blamed me but years later I can recognize I’d almost do anything to make it stop. Likely he just wanted the situation to end.

He cut me off in 2024. I struggled in the heat cooling my cat. My brother winged a bit my way and a friend let me visit every day. Food, bath, safety, it was hot but that was addressed more successfully. Just till the house was too full. I survived thanks to him.

As I mentioned before, I ran in the middle of the night from sex traffickers. The sheriff had been quite responsive to my reports but after the camping ban hit Portland the rest stop changed overnight.

From shelter to subsidized housing. I’m grateful for Oregon’s support and Portland in particular.

Sigh

Bitches are trying to get me to kill myself – sound reducers in, so reduced. They want me to lie and say something I will never state even as a copy of their words.

Back to reality

Entitled women seem to think my middle class background should make it open season on my belongings and personage.

I’m not the only one with a more emotionally difficult past than financial – in comparison. But I do know poverty, when I was young and living in a hostel in unfriendly London.

And now I have 2024, and limitations in 2025 as my mother was more willing to at least get me going.

But I can’t get anywhere with entitled women stealing my what remains of my things, hurling, abuse, have their loved ones hack into my everything. I can’t move forward under those circumstances.

Soaking their bullshit is driving me to suicidal thinking again. I’d rather live but not while listening to their lies.

I say I can’t survive this and as suicide was a result of behavior like theirs. They find it encouraging. They are trying to push me out – like that will stop this. But I have nowhere to go. I can’t go back to Petaluma. I no longer have a car. I need to stay with my cat. Without some work I can’t go anywhere but to great death.

They are starting to attack the entire building to get the cult-click to blame me, the victim,, for their nastiness. The only benefit is that an AI (perhaps trained by twitter – X) responds to every word.

I point out I’m the victim and they change their tune to complaining about a “Victim Mentality” which is, as established, driven into me by abuse and just a survival skill.

But I’m supposed to take the responsibility for their words as well as mine. I have responded with fury but the reactive abuse is intense. My defenses have been worn down and they know it. I crumple quickly with tried words. But they argue they’re “just rude”

They get away with manslaughter. Because deliberately hurting someone into snapping is not considered an emotional assault if they can convince the police, they’re “just rude.”

Okay. I mean they’re hitting my triggers for my PTSD deliberately. But I have to maintain my cool if I want to return to the bright soul within.

They already swarmed enough to destroy is before. God healed it during death. I don’t recommend it as a healing technique. But my very essence is under attack.

I need to save my words to save my soul and they know it. Now there are no consequences for them because I’m not able to shut them down. I usually had a true but pointed reply.

Their insolence, baiting, harassment, and hacking drives me to fury. So my PTSD will skyrocket and they probably hope I would rather kill myself than be that angry.

It’s not too late for my soul. Anyone can turn to god at any moment. Even as a ghost. He can heal me while alive. He already protects my soul. I need to focus on my gratitude to him.

He’s real. I now know it as fact. I will never forget that the pure joy in his presence is one to return to. And I should make sure I great him rather than cycle back.

Most Christians believe that failure will send me to hell or at least purgatory forever. Does that sound like the work of a loving god? He knows I’m the victim. He does is best to heal and protect me. But humans are humans and entitled women seem to think they can boss me around.

No. I belong with him and because I love him and his instructions as offered by the Orthodox church. I will try to do better. Out of love not fear.

I’ll do almost anything for someone I love.

I have to fill my heart with the joy of his presence. The love he brings out. The kindness he encourages.

It’s difficult while my very soul is under attack. But I must remember my loving nature even if it’s been so lied about others aren’t aware it exists until they meet me.

Most of the entitled assholes are people I’ve never spoken to in person. Don’t know me. Haven’t talked to me. But are toeing the line of the cult-click leading women.

I apparently “asking for it”. Because I am exposing their behavior and analyzing their painful base.

I have got to remember these women are suffering. And while I am upset that results in lashing out with an uncontrolled tongue – just for sitting here. I have to be kind that they are wounding their very soul.

By their language, not doing they want is an affront to their existence – even if I’m silent all day. Sleeping or typing. I don’t believe they should try to control me. They hurl nasty words and attempt to wound and micromanage.

I am apparently at fault for existing.

Entitlement is only part of the issue. But one I’ll be exploring. This forms the structure, the base, the surface motivation and behavior. But entitlement goes much deeper than someone else’s better off past.

They sure think they deserve my supplication. But they don’t.

I’ve had enough of reality abuse and gaslighting thank you. As any is too much, and women have been using this as a power tactic too long. Particularly with me.

The amount of money poured into abusing me is ridiculous! It had to be terrorism. And it is. But what do they want? For me to pull a book? No one resorts to terrorism over a book right? A good, original, insightful one. But still a book.

But that’s not the only target. I am. And that’s because the motive behind the method really is killing me.

I am “bad for” (abusive) womankind.

Rather live and let live, I am a fucking threat to their status quo. I have looks, brains, talent, sex appeal and am the nicest person when not being obliterated.

We need me if women are going to get anywhere. But as I write this they are hacking in to see and while I am silent they say to get off my high horse.

Because knowing what they are targeting about you is bad I suppose.

Come back to reality?

You’re an abusive bitch hacking my phone because you fear me becoming popular and I point out your kind of bullshit.

Maybe I would have less to point out.

Women are behind the mangling of my genitalia and attempts to bring me so far down I become a whore because sex traffickers are a little reluctant now.

Got to hook her on drugs. Find something to talk about in case lies are discovered.

That’s why you dug into my painful past isn’t it, Missy?

You had to do something to discredit me before I even left the ground.

I could – another time delve into the “mean girls” psyche and how an abusive asshole who looks down on a target really doesn’t want them to be successful.

It’s embarrassing to their ego.

What I have to do now is learn to dodge abuse because parrying isn’t working and counter attack is making me miserable.

I don’t want to be the nasty beast they want the world to believe- but apparently my ability to be nice and kind is counter to the will of all of Oregon.

Alrighty then.

I have to remember my core before some abusive individual shat on my friendships, my family – particularly my successful father, and anyone who tried to help me.

They invented threats and hired killers

They called the cops if I they heard me at all.

They tried to make this neighborhood seem dark and dangerous – don’t go out at night, there’s a body in the dumpster. My favorite “exaggeration” was that someone said our building manager had been attacked by an axe wielding god knows what. And that person saved her!

Because that’s likely.

I’ve listened. I’ve waited. I’ve been so abused that nothing hasn’t been shat on. Including the abuse they levied at my cat. My music. My listing on google and amazon. Hacked and dug in, stolen, tortured- and again mangled.

Because I’m bad for their image.

Their power dynamics.

Their egos.

They have to bring me to the brink of death so they can be free to discredit me while my cognition is under attack and my books can’t be finalized.

Apart from Game over (non fiction) I have three novels waiting to be polished and a good ten to twenty year career lined out in the notes and scraps of dialogue on my pages.

I wasn’t the kind to be popular in middle school. My freshman high school was too divided to worry and the outcasts banded together my sophomore year.

My junior year I started a split while attending Freshman College classes and left to go to college at 16. I was a part of campus protests and made one hell of a second in command.

This kind of crap was so juvenile I thought there had to be more to it than “popularity”. And while that may be true for some. The dangerous bullying is anything but child’s play – as written on my blog.

Women resorting to terrorism to discredit in advance what was the village sweetheart and is now perceived as the wicked witch of the west.

They want me lying on a broken unmade bed. My garbage piled up. Too paranoid to use the bathroom. Afraid to leave the room for what they’ll steal and vandalize next. My cat has to join me because she’s anxious if I leave her alone.

These vultures hurt my cat. Now I protect her with my life. She’s the reason I don’t give up again. She’s who I talk to half the time. She like some, just likes a background chatter in my natural voice.

It’s pleasant to some- so got to make me afraid to talk.

Anything everything because they want me destroyed but don’t see that means suicide not permanent hospitalization.

They are responsible for the circumstances leading to my fatal suicide in July. I came back from the dead. I was in heaven meeting God! But a surgeon saved my life and for a while I struggled to admit I was disappointed to still be alive.

If I get better, if I write, if I care for my appearance. I’m attacked. Have to make me look ugly on the outside on the off chance I’ll feel that way on the inside.

My reputation was thoroughly shat on. But they’re still trying to permanently silence me. Because the alternative is the woman in their mirrors.