Sylvanna Devlin

We share it

Here’s the bottom of the bullshit.

The lies, the reality abuse, the gaslighting and evil in-between is appalling, Oop I meant apparently about my book from the victims perspective.

From Reactive abuse, the evil in-between.

Dear ladies, as it seems to be all pissed of women – talented in other ways so they should own their shit before dumping it on me.

Every “enemy” hauled out, things stolen, professionals hired. The cult, the brainwashing all this bullshit?

About a fucking book?

Are you fucking serious?

Game Over

Older picture by a few days

I promise we’re both still alive.

Though I suppose a kidnapper wouldn’t say that.

Well maybe they would just to throw you off.

Then the next so forth.

But no one is that tedious.

Right?

With 92 hours awake and 2 hours of sleep at some point madness easily flows. Add to it intense narrative based reality abuse! One disconnects from everything.

Slipping, sliding, flowing stories swimming around each other. Real sounds only some can hear. Characters, plots and plans. It all begins to blur and a dream world makes more sense than the physical.

Until you are left in oblivion.

You cease to exist. Reality becomes a red river of lies above and the blue truth below flowing in an opposite direction. And you are between, floating on both as up and down really has no meaning anymore.

You’ve been reduced to perception alone and any moment now you will cease to exist entirely.

A life raft of words is sent and you’ll call upon your nemesis if you have to, anything to reconnect. Even surrendering to the lure of an abusive, controlling individual with an unusual affect on women.

Unless they were around all the time for years. Then they fear succumbing to crocodile tears and nuerolinguistic programming.

Maybe he improved. I don’t know.

Then you get some fucking sleep and overhear complaints, “you said she would be in the hospital for weeks after all that”

You write about it and someone says, “you think Nepenthe is you? Come back to reality.”

Oh if it were only so simple. And Reactive Abuse less popular in women. Perhaps my book will change that. Perhaps losing a weak form of power is truly the issue at hand.

And I was sent to Oblivion to be destroyed.

Game Over

The name of my book and my current mood.

I am Nepenthe as described as the version in the song – one I’ve never heard. But they knew the story too well for us not to be the same woman.

And reactive Abuse has made me look ugly and angry when I would prefer to be kind and gentle.

“Do you look good enough on the outside to feel good on the inside, yet?”

Please God, get me away from abusive women I’ve never met, pouring nastiness and frustration with security I just don’t understand.

Maybe trying to Vanish me was a bad idea.

Published under Melissa J Devlin

Game Over.

The game changer.

And just possibly the reason Games are being played with my head.

Oh by the way? The hair and glasses thing is real – no makeup required.

Golly I look tired!

A snapshot of “oh who cares about the perfect one right now. Maybe I’ll do myself up for New Year’s Eve!

I’m hoping taking care of the outside will improve my mood on the inside. It’s a step up from “fuck it all”. But I’m learning ASL and thus looking at my hands a lot. I wanted them to be prettier.

At least Tabitha knows when I’m sulking.

Because there’s confusion both pictures taken today. No opportunity for someone to switch cats. But one is a snapshot. The other is really good – from a different angle. Like my photos of me, angles and lighting matter!

But accurate

Do I look like someone to vanish?

But pink but my Christmas tree has very bright red.

Some days I really want to know what’s going on around me.

Sometimes I don’t

Even when I don’t want to be.

I’ve had such the narrative pumped into my feverish mind that I don’t know if the truth will ever be clear.