Sylvanna Devlin

The I’m still here picture.

Here’s proof I’m still alive

I’ve had some little twerp try to drive me to suicide and failing that? Sell me off bit by bit.

She stole my identity and now wants my work. She claims that she’s “the real one”. When I doubt even her nose is real.

She’s tried getting me on drugs, turning me into a whore, selling me to sex traffickers (separate), assassinated my character, stolen my writing, actually doxed me, and is using surveillance of me as an oh shiny to hack others. She had my genitalia mutilated, she even tried brain washing. What the fuck do you want from me?

She’s manipulated reality and twisted perception of me so my neighbor hears sound I’m not making. Everyone does.

She’s stolen from me, she’s trying to use hacking and the police to steal my cat.

She’s hacked hooks into everything and annihilated anyone helping me.

She even defaced my crosses.

I’m a sweetheart that is quiet most times so you only hear me when tortured into being chatty or prodded and pocked at with such nasty rhetoric I seem angry and fierce because that’s all you hear.

Now she’s trying to drive me to suicide – again. And you think I should.

What do you want from me? To go back in time and not use Nepenthe as my belly dance name? To lack talent and hard work put into writing? To lie and say Allah doesn’t talk to me? That he didn’t save me for a book he wants?

This world is corrupt. There’s more than one path to him, heaven, or nirvana out there. And he wants a signpost since you seem to need it.

I’m supposed to what? Succumb to the voice trying to kill me by lying that I’m abusive? He’s real but his words are lies.

I didn’t deserve to be shat on by everyone. I still don’t. But she’s obsessed with my destruction and the fact I’m still alive is driving her to madness. Now she’s trying to invent perception of a crime so I kill myself when accused.

She’s been so extreme because I’m still alive. But frankly I don’t want to be. I promised to do everything to get better and she claws at every hand I put on the sheer cliff face up.

She’s obsessed. This is what obsession does. But no, I have to die before she’s stopped.

Not bad for a “crap need to prove I’m still alive!”

No one, including Microsoft has permission to use my work, or my voice, written or verbal.

And stay off my fucking blog all the spunky bitches out there! (Everyone else is welcome to read it but not use it)

My search is broken

This need updating and pronto because Bluetooth isn’t secure and hackers are worming around the law. Bad wording folks.

Why? Just why all this bullshit? So people can watch. So people can make their systems vulnerable with what they watch with. A hidden subscription fee perhaps? How many are missing “rich kids” equivalent to a penny.

Shows over. Fuck off.

It’s all pretty unbelievable because the only things not fictional were me, my things and my body. (Well and my cat but she’s now an extension of me)

A snuff film gone wrong.

I did not choose any of this.

This is how my morning is going.