Dead until further notice.

As the stalker I mentioned in my last post is still — 6 weeks later — following this blog, I cannot safely post anything of any significance here.

Unless or until he decides to leave, this project of over a decade is dead. I’ve had several things over the last month and a half that I’ve wanted to write about, but that can’t happen here; I don’t expect that to change, and so I’m doing the only thing I can:

Silencing myself because yet another man has made it too dangerous for me to speak.

Douchebag. Draining.

What exactly is it with men who refuse to take “fuck off, to stop attempting to contact me” and repeated efforts to cut off contact as an invitation to continue being predatory, stalking motherfucking sons of bitches?

Woke up this morning to a new blog follower (good riddance! get lost! fuck off! go away! How many ways can I say this before it gets through, asshole?) who has refused for nearly a decade to stop tracking down my various online presences and trying to connect with me yet again, refused to stop ignoring every possible way that I have attempted to make it absolutely fucking crystal-clear that I want nothing whatsoever to do with him ever again.

Thing is, it actually took me a while to even figure out who this draining douchebag was, because unlike the obsessed creep he is, I hadn’t given him the slightest thought in at least five years. All I knew was that I sorta-kinda recognized his profile picture and had a visceral negative reaction to seeing it. Racked my brain trying to figure out where in the world/on the internet I even might have recognized it from… which didn’t get me very far, because I’m not following him anywhere. Makes sense for someone I’ve endlessly tried to excise from my life, but then, this shitstain has never seemed to care about boundaries so it’s not shocking that he’s still working to get back in.

I’m going to say this one last time, since as far as I know this is the last place he has any chance of hearing me: I want nothing to do with you. Stop following me. Stop stalking me. Leave me the fuck alone and get out of my life for good. Your persistence is incredibly draining, not admirable. This isn’t your goddamned dreamland, and I’m never dancing with you.

Five years — my brain hurts a lot…

I’m not dead.

That fact still frequently surprises me, although I suppose it shouldn’t be too shocking. I mean, surviving is what I do, right?

I had a birthday last month. Shortly after that marks the fifth year since I got back from the shitshow of a trip I took to see Lime and coming back to stay with The Rabbit for “three or four months.” Obviously it’s been more than that.

I feel lost. Stagnant but drifting. Often empty. Therapy has been helpful, and starting on the prescription antidepressant I’ve been taking for around 6 months now has been an improvement, too.

But… there have also been so many times when I’ve had the beginnings of a post for this blog tumbling around in my head, and I could swear I’ll actually get around to fleshing things out and onto the page… but then as I’m writing this now I can see it’s been nearly a year since I last published anything at all here.

This place is overwhelming. It’s hard to deal with, but I do.

I’ve had a fair number of “oh-you-thought-she-was-actually-into-you-haha-serves-you-right-for-hoping” experiences, all of them as disappointing as that sounds; being lonely is frustrating but I just try not to think about it much because it just hurts too much otherwise. And even if finding someone who likes me for me (not because she sees me as a bucket-list fetish item) ever even happens, there’s still the eventual dance of deciding whether to be open with her about everything to do with my sexuality… and I’ve seen that go down in flames worse than eating out with a mouthful of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos more times than I care to dwell on.

I dunno. This is just ramble-y bullshit. I guess that’s not necessarily a bad thing… I used to do that back when I was very first blogging, back on MySpace. Whatevs. Brief proofing for spelling, grammar, and punctuation, add links, then publish. Sigh.

Like drinking vodka and Red Bull, but better.

Like a single flash of lightning
Amid an endless expanse of darkness
You have illuminated me,
Even if only for a brief moment.
Again, as always, I am
Electrified and intoxicated by
The lingering traces of you:
A too-rare smile still teasing
At the corners of my mouth
Damp hair and towels
Beside my bed
A delightful pile of the day’s acquisitions
Surrounding, strewn about
And enough leftover food to last
A couple of days.
Thank you for existing and
For being a part of my life.

I feel fine enough, I guess (considering everything’s a mess…)

shout into the void
wish to be seen, be heard
only emptiness looks back
not even echoes
to keep me company

i looked up the song for the sake
of making a quick joke about the day
and my inadvertent lack of green
but found instead that the words
hit harder
fit better
than i had recalled
or anticipated.

try to scream, only yawn
get me out of here
tell me this is just a dream
colder than it looks
attempt to discern
any meaning
any purpose

and wish, again, still
that i had a few bare-naked ladies
to pinch me

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