fuck you

In many of my recent posts, I've alluded to a difficult personal situation. This is my attempt to give a voice to that experience. It's raw, it's angry, and it's an unfiltered part of my journey. It's not an easy read, but it's a necessary one.

NOT ALL OF YOU …NAH ACTUALLY, MORE OR LESS ALL OF YOU

Fuck you, to those people directly responsible for this and also more or less actively engaging in this crap.

Fuck you, to those people that aren’t actively engaging but are aware of who it is and keep their stupid mouth shut.

I had written those first lines back on April 10th and didn't continue until now. Things are finally, slowly, starting to ebb away. And even though I've become a better version of myself, I still don't think any of this was necessary. This experience forced me to confront my long-standing issues with rage. There were times in my past when the metaphorical barrel overflowed and I just went off, with little control over my actions. Those incidents became less frequent over the years, but they were always there under the surface.

Cue to one year ago, when everything started to unravel. If you had told me then what was about to happen, I would have called you crazy.

The fact is, I got in contact with who I thought was a woman, and she most likely was/is. But I'm no longer sure how much of our communication was real and what parts were an AI or some motherfucker pulling the strings, be it her manipulative 'boyfriend' or someone else. It was nice in the beginning, new and exciting. But my suspicions grew rather early on. When I noticed and wanted to step away, it was already too late. I had given her access to my heart, a priority pass with a private entrance. After ten years of avoiding relationships to protect myself from exactly this kind of severe breakup, I was trapped.

I could almost 'feel' his presence in our conversations.

This emotional rollercoaster was fueled by this woman. The days became a blur of highs and lows. In the morning, I'd be ecstatic, by the evening, I'd be crying, devastated after she had fucked me over yet again. I wanted it to stop, but in a weird way, I think a part of me was hooked on the chaos, a dynamic that was painfully familiar.

What truly baffles me is how many times I told them all to just stop. I pleaded with them to move on, telling them the 'game' had become boring and shallow. But they just kept going, using the same pathetic tricks over and over again, thinking they would still work.

The idea that my family was involved, or at least knew something, was fueled by their own bizarre behavior. When I tried to talk to them about it, conversations would be cut off abruptly the moment I pointed out an inconsistency. They would make snide, pointed remarks that felt like they were part of the 'game'. Even when I told them their help would be simple, that I just needed to see a specific piece of writing to clear things up and put my mind at ease, that simple proof is always denied. It is maddening.

The moment I spotted the first inconsistency, I pointed it out. There would be a break for a few hours, and when the conversation resumed, my 'family' would pretend nothing had happened, hoping I'd just forget. But I wasn't in love with 'her' anymore, and my drug consumption was already way down. My mind was already clearer. Once I figured out how oblivious they were, I played along, but it was sad to see them trying so hard, thinking I wouldn't remember things from a few hours prior.

It became clear they also had access to my computer, my Instagram, and my Facebook. But I told them early on that I was aware and wouldn't believe anything I saw on there.

So, I'll stop for now. I'm fucking tired.

Good night.