nastiness begets nastiness, etc.

posting removed per request of named individuals.

trash [EDITED]

i get it now
it's merely a matter of convenience
how foolish of me

it's easier to be an asshole
to be selfish
cruel
lie

become "unavailable"

it's easier to be people like [name] and Elise
dana, john, jana, jenni, megan, toshi, jefferson
picus, jenni's sister, mike the heather manipulator

.and.
.so.
.many.
.more.

choose your reality
erase people you think have offended you

but first the setup!
pull them in, or make it appear you're simply letting them in, even more clever...

bring them into the fold
showcase them
talk them up

make them feel special

"i don't see how anyone could ever think you're scum"
"those girls didn't deserve you"
"you're better than them"
"they're just selfish"

over and over and over
the same insincere trash talk.
the same LIES.

take advantage of them
fuck, be fucked
have your yank, get free orgasms
receive your so badly needed validation

have your "friendship"
sex friends
people you're "seeing"
"best friends" you betray

then tear them apart
or ignore them, or tell them off
change parameters without notice,
whatever. just something sudden and cruel.

"terms subject to change without notice.
we are under no obligation to inform you of changes
prior to their execution."

tell your friends they're trash
the friends you were trashing
now you need them again
because you've exchanged hates

found the lesser exposure
realized who sees you least
where you're more hidden
invisible but accepted as a member

the elite club of cool outsiders
insiders, who cares what caste you want
you just want one that takes you in as member
where you can throw out people you don't like

I GET IT NOW.

i can be just like you.
erase you, ignore you.
tell everyone you're trash.

i'm doing it now. wheee!

so fuck you all.
you're all trash.

makeup, clever vocabulary without logical coherence
hiding rotting sores
rotting souls
rot

zombies, trash,
monsters in costumes of worse monsters
for fun and for protection

masks to hide worse masks
portraying something better
something bitter but risky and cool
elite

rot

rot and flutter away with the leaves

waste your time surfing every internet social club
seeking an identity you can't fashion out of reality
look for people to bash in clusters of assholes, jackals
fan the flames, sham the blames and blame the truths

seek out that next perfect man, the good fuck
to bash later when he sees through your makeup

women suck
men suck
people suck
so do their friends

wives
husbands
whoever just does as told
without forming their own opinions based on truth

all of you
thinking you're just fine
better than
in control

trash
every single one

including me
because i can't be YOU.

that's all you get

too painful to read it, but, apparently,

not too painful for me to live it.

i'm punished for fighting and punished for trying to die,

even though my suicidal gestures have been only that,

... really.

what i do, never enough - what i've tolerated doesn't count.

my disability means nothing; i don't even have one, cunts.

i've nothing left to give because i've given it all,

yet i'm told to "give", "be", "do", "shut up"

"write a book", "he's manipulative"

faith, self love, trust in jesus

pray, masturbate, wish upon a falling star

humanity, just beasts

the world, nothing & nowhere

fuck, shit, piss.

pointless entry

pointless blog

in the end,

i get nothing,

so i'll give nothing.

i'm much worse, now, thanks

now i have three more betrayals to keep my mind at disease.
dis ease and disease. same word. different pronunciation. same meaning, in my book.

so how do i sleep and be at peace now?
i want to screw you all. and i don't mean fucking.
i feel raped, pillaged and disposed of as convenient.

thinking hurts more than before
when i can think straight at all
you learned nothing, all this time.

the friends, nothing
the parents, nothing

i'm much much worse, now, thanks so much
for adding to the mental disease i cannot wash out.

buy her book, she's neat

Katie West: low self-esteem

and, as avolare on flickr,
where i "met" her

(yeah, i'd like a signed copy myself)

fuck you, elise & the gang [EDITED]

hey cruel selfish liar,
perhaps you didn't get my first email:

your packages of love-lies are sitting on my porch
you lying rapist.
take them away before one of the neighborhood freaks steals them.

bowls, wine, letters of lies, postcards of lies, etc... in that big wooden box and smaller postal bos. i put all my Postal Service CDs in the big box too, since i can't listen to them without thinking of you. like giving expensive paints to the asshole judy who fucked me up after you (though no where near as well as you did)... take my stuff because i can't enjoy it without it reminding me of you and making me fucking miserable. not only did you rape my heart, you raped my musical pleasure.

"i decided that the next guy i was going to date would have to like The Postal Service!"

childish shallow crap.

take it all away.

you also still owe me over $400 for those plane tickets you wasted. the exact amount is on my blog somewhere. you know, that blog i started out of love for you. the first entry, an apology. to you. out of shame for yelling at you
WHEN YOU DESERVED IT!
NO LOVE.
YOU DESERVED TO BE SPIT AT
IN THE FACE for your selfish CRUELTY.

"so, are we still not talking?"

YOU ARROGANT, SELFISH, EMPATHY-DEVOID
PRESUMPTIVE BITCH.

3 years since you RAPED ME and i STILL can't get you out of my body.

i hope you grow up some day, you selfish asshole. you're dangerous. and sick.
but no, i'm the fuckin' crazy loser without income or ability to function... yeah, that's fair.

i should have stopped talking to you the moment you told me what you did to Treg.
"i think i hurt him" you said, repeatedly, as if that relieved you of the responsibility.
i should have told you right then that you were a selfish fucking tease.

you were so afraid that i would reject you, yet i accepted all kinds of SHIT about you.
such as being a selfish bitch who takes what she wants from whom she wants it and then leaves,
randomly, suddenly, without respect, without responsibility, without the slightest bit of humanity.

"i don't want to be his lover."

"ANY MORE," you should have added. because you sure as fuck wanted to be his lover at some point. and he believed it, just like stupid fucking me.
you should have said all your shit to me with the prologue of "for this fraction of time, this is what i want... and i will change my mind as is suits me, no matter what kind of damage it does, because i wont take responsibility for my actions nor how they affect other people. other people don't matter."

on Okcupid.com your personality type is "the sudden departure." it describes you perfectly.

you were so afraid of me rejecting you that you chose to reject ME and turn everything into a LIE.
ASSHOLE!

telling you to fuck off once you admitted your abuse of Treg might have saved me.
maybe i could have saved my fucking sanity.
maybe without being totally DICKED OVER by YOU, maybe without being totally SMASHED to fucking nothing, maybe i might have had more stamina left in me to tolerate the sociopathic abuses dealt to me by my fucking employers,

which you had ZERO compassion or empathy for me dealing with... it was like an irritation... an annoyance... how dare i have problems on my end... i'm not allowed to have a heart and soul. that's only for YOU.

you yourself are just as cruel and antisocial as they are.

you know, i had a job... you remember how amazed with my grown-up adult realman stuff, right?
the job i was driven out of because i did my BEST and it threatened sociopathic SHITHEADS

the job where i was so stressed, yet you didn't give a fuck... you used my problems with my job as more reason to pass your arrogant judgment against me. that i'm weak. that i'm irresponsible some how.

YOU'RE the most irresponsible person i've met.

"In my family, i'm kind of considered the clown."
Maybe that's because you act like one. like an asshole clown.
inconsistent. random. selfish. arrogant yet ignorant. immature.

without YOU fucking up my life
maybe i'd still have a job, even.

so, how many more Tregs have there been since me, you cyclic borderliner?

i'm unemployed, terminally insomniac, have severe PTSD, constant nightmares, neighbors who harass me, a measly $50/month of foodstamps,
disability checks that just barely cover my mortgage (you know that house owning thing that you thought was so "real man"
but that you also hated the idea of because of your fear of actually growing up), more than $30K in debt accumulated to distract myself from suicide and one motherfucker of a suicidal ideation. oh and i'm autistic, too. have been my whole life. somehow justifying everyone shitting on me. somehow making it all okay that i've been abused my whole fucking life.

but what the FUCK do YOU care. you only care about YOU. elise fucking brown and whatever she can take from others for herself.

i'm SICK of being FUCKED OVER by assholes and just playing nice.

you promised me a life and instead you shattered it. you built me up and shit on me. was it fun?

"jace, i'm lonely" you whined at me, as if YOUR loneliness was justification to DICK OUT ON ME.

"i feel like a disappointing ass."
BECAUSE YOU ARE. you're WORSE, in fact.
using the word "disappointment" is like an INSULT.

I AM NOT YOUR PORN!
YOU USED ME AS YOUR OWN PRIVATE WEB WHORE.

you are selfish, cruel, rude, childish, immature, unkind, heartless, unstable, repetitious, full of shit and one big fucking lie.

why don't you gang up on me with all the other heartless assholes who dicked me over for their own selfish issues?

i'll help you get set up with jana, john and tammy, pete, judy, dana, sairuh and that sociopathic fuck jefferson.

you can all gang up and come kill me in some sick fucked up ritual of superiority.
despite all your fucking LIES, you're just like them. JUST THE SAME.
unable to follow through. unable to commit. unable to be real. unable to be sincere or honest.
socially inept. emotionally warped. sick, paranoid and selfish.

you had the chance to prove otherwise
you PROMISED to prove otherwise
and YOU FAILED MISERABLY.

so, kill me. please do it. there's no hope, no options, no drugs, no doctors. no lawyers to defend my rights. no money to buy law and rights. no motivation. no energy. no food.
so fucking kill me, you rapist.

you asked me if i could imagine what it's like to have someone jack off inside me... yeah, i can.
YOU DID JUST THAT TO ME.

i repeat: I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING PORN

now take away these "gifts" of elise lies, read them all and see how cruel and heartless you are and then do what you want with them.
it might help to refresh your memory, what memory you haven't erased for convenience, by reading all the fucking emails you
sent to me, too. how you DROVE this passionate relationship and then FUCKED IT ALL AWAY like it meant nothing.
BECAUSE IT MEANT NOTHING to you. SO EASY FOR YOU!!!!!!

SO TAKE IT BACK! TAKE IT THE FUCK BACK. i don't want the lies, the "gifts" the reminders... the BULLSHIT!
carve it out of my fucking soul with your claws so i don't have to feel your violation of me any more.
it's been YEARS and i still can't escape the feeling of violation you gifted to me.

"the catch" is sick of being dicked, fucked, raped, violated, used, abused, lied to and generally screwed.

"the catch" wants to die now. take your shit away, admit you're fucked up and let me die in peace.


"jace, you're a catch"
so you tossed me back to drown in a careless sea with your hook piercing my heart and lungs.
"you're a real man"
but you don't WANT a real man, apparently, just a TOY. just a fantasy boy.
"you treated me like a princess"
but you really prefer to be treated like a whore. you're better at it.
"you treated me better than anyone ever treated me"
and my reward was to be raped and thrown away like useless cunt garbage.
"you have no idea how many times guys have pulled out on me before i had a chance"
so then it must be totally fair in your sick twisted mind to do exactly that to others!

i am FUCKING SICK of justifications, LIES, BULLSHIT from girls, children, brats, like yourself.
justifications for being selfish fucking bitches who ENJOY FUCKING PEOPLE UP.

i haven't communicated with you in years and i STILL HEAR YOUR SHIT IN MY HEAD!!!!!!!

"well, then, i guess i'm just a selfish bitch"
YES, YOU ARE!!!!!!!!!

"i never said anything that wasn't emotionally valid at the time."

YOU FUCKING ANTISOCIAL LANGUAGE-MANIPULATING LIE.
you ARE the exact thing that you supposedly crusaded against:
POLITICAL BULLSHIT AND LIES. you learned well from them.
you're an antisocial murdering rapist of the worst kind:

the kind that gets away with it.

and i'm one of your many victims who will NEVER FORGET YOU.

you cut me deeper than three janas because you did the same fucking thing she did, damned her for it, but did it all just the same anyway... in a fraction of the time she took to do it. with more promises. more talk talk talk. lies lies lies.

part of my PTSD is YOU!

i wish i could hate you and write you off. like you so easily write people off.

"i was telling my mom, i think this might be the one."

you mean "the next one that i fuck over and rape heartlessly. did you tell your mom what you did to me in the end? did you tell her how much i hurt? did you tell her how hard i tried to hold on to you, as stupid as i am for it? did you mock me? make me out to be some horrible asshole like you made Pat? did you tell people how much worse than Pat i was?

DID YOU TELL PEOPLE WHAT YOU DID TO DESERVE BEING YELLED AT WITH VENOM??

"i'm not willing to give up just because it's hard right now."
and then you GAVE up. to make it more insulting, you added revisionism.

three fucking years
and i can't stop feeling the lies you fed me.
i want to die to escape it.

with some fucking stupid love (which tells me not to mail this to you because "what if...," which is really stupid fucking fantasy bullshit that i'm sick of harboring in my heart),

your ex-not-quite-boyfriend-or-lover and former plaything of six months, (you know, "the catch," the "real man"... the used tampon, the free custom porn, the vibrator, the loser you tossed away like nothing)...

-fucking jace cavafuckingcini

p.s.: two of the images attached were made for you. Made with the camera i bought JUST so i could send YOU photos to keep us in contact while unable to be together. kind of like my sister sending photos to her husband in Afghanistan. but that wasn't enough for you. NOTHING is ever enough for you. "jace, you just don't seem to... you know..." NO, i DON'T KNOW unless i'm TOLD. You didn't tell; just lied and revised. They were taken after you ran off (i just noticed the low file numbers, and i've lost weight since then). Consider it more custom porn for your jerking off. but you don't need to. you can have ANY man you want, ANY time you want, for WHATEVER you want, for however long SUITS YOU. Me, i'd rather cut off my fucking cock than deal with the idea of needing sexual relief and the off chance i might think of YOU at the same time. YOUR kind are the most common out there. In 32 years, this is what i've learned. There's nothing for me to look forward to except more of the same. teases, lies, arrogance and abuse. oh, the third photo, about three thousand later (1K per year?) is more like what i am these days in harsh light. shaved head. deadish. whipped. beaten. i bet you're just as sexy and beautiful as ever because you get whatever you want, as always; even if you act like you've been dicked out on, you always get the better part of anything, including the dicking. especially since you dick out FIRST. go ahead and show 'em off. throw 'em around to your "friends" to show how lame i am. show 'em how badly you fucked me over because i'm "STILL" upset about it. i'm sure you already lambasted me with all the other photos i sent you. why wouldn't you? you abandoned me so that you could avoid your fear of abandonment or rejection (you're an unkind, unjust, self fulfilling prophecy), so why wouldn't you try to disgrace me with the photos i sent you, assuming that i MUST have done it to you.

you even acted like i had no right to feel hurt by your cruelty. you acted like you had a right to come crying to me when shit went wrong for you in your paradise runaway-child land. YOU SELFISH RIGHTEOUS FUCK.

FUCK YOU, my eternal love.

[What he couldn't do was stop feeling the things she enabled him to feel. He couldn't stop feeling the things she told him in the beginning. What he couldn't do was just let it go. Does that make him the bad guy or "defective" or "obsessive?" He had a seven year relationship with someone. She and friends acted like he should have just gotten over it in a few days/weeks. Is that rational? Who has the right to say when a person is done mourning? You? Me? What these people cannot do is accept that their actions have repercussions and consequences. They cannot comprehend the idea of feeling strongly for someone because they don't do it themselves. They stop feeling for people BEFORE they leave them. But, look at the history of these people and see how they acted when the tables were turned. Look how they behaved when THEY were the ones abandoned and betrayed. Have they forgotten?]

bait animal, for your ego and betrayal

people who think they know something about something are dangerous. people who tell you they care about you are the worst of those.

First, no, I haven't been actively avoiding you.

That three year gap of time where there was ZERO response to my attempts at communication... that wasn't avoidance... no, not at all, you fucking borderliner.

We haven't been in each other's lives for years - since high school, really, and I am often surprised with the strong attachment that you have to me.

Oh, i don't know, it couldn't have ANYTHING to do with all that talk you made about how we were close friends and how you wanted us to be able to share personal things with each other. How you maintained a close connection via email for years... until after you visited me and started to avoid me. Oh, you didn't avoid me, that's right. Silly me. You were just thinking. You fucking revisionist liar. Oh the convenience of self delusion!!

When I saw you last about 3 years ago, things weren't going well for you. At that point, I did not know exactly what to do or if it was even my place to do something. I will also admit that it made me uncomfortable that you were sharing so much with me

How fucking DARE i share my personal life with my FRIENDS! Friends aren't people to share one's life with. Certainly not people to look to for support!!

and [name], and that you sent me those text messages later on that night. I didn't really know how to respond then, and I'm still not sure how to respond now. The last phone text message you sent me about a year ago

So you'd been thinking about it that whole time... right... three years ago... a year ago... Not avoiding me... no...

made me feel very uncomfortable and I felt like if I did respond at that time it could have made things worse for you and, quite frankly, I didn't want to engage in a dialog with you.

Nothing to do with YOU at all...

I was offended and felt that your message was in appropriate. So I chose not to respond, which I still feel was the best choice for me personally.

Oh yeah, it DOES have to do with YOU. It's ALL ABOUT YOU!! HOW FAMILIAR!! 100% the same as john and tammy being mad at me for feeling offended by their behavior... OH WAIT, here comes another one! i shared my feeling of offense and YOU MAKE IT ALL ABOUT YOU AND HOW MUCH I AM THE ASSHOLE!!!

I am concerned about you, Jace.

LIAR! You don't avoid someone for more than three years when you feel concern for them!! YOU FUCKING FAKE!!!!!!!

There is a lot going on in your life that is making you unhappy. I want you to feel better and have the relationships in your life that you need. However, I am not the person that can be your therapist or even your friend. I know that this sounds harsh, but I'm speaking from my heart with honesty.

You're speaking out your ASS with EXCUSES for not being what you CLAIMED.

I don't know what your life is like right now, if you are still as unhappy as you were 3 years ago,

You don't know because you didn't give the slightest bit of thought to it. Because you don't give a shit about me at all, you have avoided me and now are able to claim ignorance. NO FUCKING SHIT you DON'T KNOW. Your logic is flawed and you contradict yourself from paragraph to paragraph, let alone along the time line of our "friendship."

and if you are still getting help. I honestly hope that things are going better for you. I may be stepping out of line here, but I think you said also that you think you have Asberger's Syndrome - if so, the only recommendation I can make is that you get yourself a good cognitive-behavioral therapist (not just any type of therapist, but a CBT therapist that has been trained in this specific type of therapy that has shown to be effective) that can help you work through some of the issues associated with that (if you still have on-going issues).

i already let you have it via email for your ignorance here. There are enough blog entries and comments around the web from me on ignorant professionals... like you are attempting to become. i hope you don't get your PhD. For the sake of other people.

And, finally, signed with the greatest heap of insincere buck-passing, fake bullshit:

I really wish you the best and hope that you can move on with your life with love and hope.

Sincerely,
[another liar]

Another elise. or jana. or even just yet another generic fucking sociopath-to-be borderliner.

Thank you for breaking my heart, my soul, my will and my ability to try.

Thank all of you.

who are you when you're alone?

i know who i am
do you know who you are?
which version are you right now?
which version is "the real you?"
when you're not under someone else's influence,
who are you and does it matter?

a friend, lover, care taker, trainer, controller, manipulator, transactional opportunist?

"i'll be better," you said.

this, is not. you're another step over the line.
"the counterbalance" it is not.
that's transactional thinking, which i don't do.
remember?

do you even know who i am,
for all your research?

i should have stopped.
december should have been all i needed.
now i know that it is meaningless,
who and what i am... meaningless.

you've taken more leeway than i've authorized.
but i guess i have no rights, right?

you're finding ways to fault me for your insecurities,
damn me for my honesty, and take a superior position,
just like everyone eventually does.

i'm autistic, not stupid, remember?
i'm not a child, i'm traumatized.

i know a lot more than it seems
and i have a great statistic for being correct.

don't come around again if "that" person is the real you.
the december you.
the aggressor
transactional relationship manager.

i'm so tired of false advertizing, taking the blame, and then being beaten for standing up for myself. so if you're not you, collect your possessions and stab me on the way out. i'd rather it be a real blade, in my flesh, instead of soured memories and hidden injuries for a fucking change.

women want a man they can change.
men want a woman who will stay the same.

everyone, male or female, wants to change me.
control me. shape me. be superior than.
so, why should i behave better?

there's no reward,
save for the limited, one year grace period,
plus or minus six months,
which sours soon after.

why should i continue?
give solid reasons.
the statistics are horrific and stacked against me, long term.

i should sell every belonging,
adopt out the cats,
drive far away,
end it all in isolation.

no notes to misconstrue.
no resolution for you.
no corpse to display.
no wishes to betray.
no memory
to defile and whitewash.

just... nothing
nowhere.

who are you when i'm nowhere?
you can be whoever, whenever.
what ever. no change, really.

this is not a threat.
this is a feeling.
it has a cause.

ultimately,
like myself,
irrelevant.

seeking the kind (can't live without 'em - ii)

when they are selfish, irresponsible and immature, they are but heartless deadly monsters with hollow words,

tearing at my flesh, my heart, as reavers, ripping me into strips of meat to be devoured...

vegetarian girl or carnivorous woman, there is no distinction; they are but beautiful and murderous predators.

somehow, there are others... different;

responsible, mature, wise, empathetic, self controlled creatures of thought and heart,

who follow through, in action, with the words which they proclaim... more than mere advertisement.

they save a part of me,

with each and every kindness given.

and i love these beautiful creatures of kindness.

it is a shame that the kind ones are so few,

and their acts of kindness are so outnumbered

by the reavers' spears, hooks, blades and arrows of selfish cruelty.

worse, still, some of the formerly kind

are made into the new selfish breed,

by suffering rape and pillaging,

giving in to the reaver within...

but, without those few loving beauties,

the true, the real, the thoughtful and the honest,

i would be dead by the hands of the beautiful...

the beautiful lying beasts.

it is for the love and the kindness i go on...

it is because of the lovers and the kind ones,

that i continue to exist.

trying to reason with an unreasonable girl

three years ago (as of September 2007) elise crushed my heart and soul. i did this to my fist after losing yet another round of trying to reason with her in chat. i beat my fist into the keyboard until blood sprayed around. my brain suggested that i might stop at that point so as not to break any bones (i've never broken any bones).

so i'm dangerous, right?

wrong.

this is me. my hand. my chest. my body. and this is what was done to my mind by elise. i did this to myself and a keyboard. the keyboard did not represent elise. it represented the irrationality and illogical madness that drove me to near insanity. it was me, beating the shit out of a communication device that failed. my keyboard. my mind. my hands.

other people's insanity is something i have a hard time with, being high functioning autistic. no matter how much i try to reason with someone, they remain unreasonable and my brain "short circuits."

i had to be told.

i had to be told that i could not make sense of something that was not sensible.

i had to be told that it is not possible to rationalize something that is irrational.

i had to be told.

no matter how hard i try to tell elise, or any of the others, how much damage they do, they don't get it. incomprehensible.

three years ago... and it still hurts worse than anything else ever did.

i've moved on in action and in loving, but this...
this is still inside.
it will never leave me.

not ever.

wanting to hold and be held

a few good days,

as i've written before,

usually p r e t e x t a crash.

it is part of the sleep deprivation

the t o u c h deprivation.

that crash is n o w.

tonight.

this m o r n i n g.

alone. open.

after a nice chat: a l o n e.

after nice email: a l o n e.

after a nice introduction: a l o n e.

a f t e r reviewing words

sent to elise

which earned me the most recent "called the cops on me" episode.

reminded why i am typing in this fucking little box,

on the fucking little internet,

to fucking no one. a l o n e.

b e c a u s e of her.

& her.

& her.

& her.

& her.

& i s t i l l want

e a c h.

& i can't touch h e r yet.

or her.

or her.

& i will never know h e r.

or h e r.

or h e r.

& her.

alone. o p e n.

wanting to be held and to h o l d.

can you i m a g i n e?

some of them act like i'm "dangerous."

the judy. the elise. the jana.

i appreciate caution

those who have not been with me

who do not yet know me; it is s e n s i b l e

in this s e n s e l e s s world of selfishness & opportunism.

but for those who had me

in their grip, o w n e d

why fear m e ?

with s w i f t n e s s they kill,

and .i. am feared?

closed eyes.

calloused skin.

irrational minds.

and i .m i s s.

e a c h

o n e.

in this crash, i would

a c c e p t.

i would o f f e r

i would g i v e

even e l i s e.

i would a c c e p t.

i would a l l o w.

after being m a d e fool of,

i would .s t i l l. hold,

t e n d e r l y.

i don't think they understand...

to be truly alone. none ever were.

they don't have that p a t i e n c e.

to be

alone. o p e n.

w a n t i n g to be held.

knowing .H O W.

to h o l d & 

.be. h e l d.

trying to meet with death

five thirty am. the only woman ever to show me loving behavior, asleep in my bed. i am not able to have her with me as long as i would prefer. selfish. i know it. five thirty am. she is in my bed and i am in my bathroom, fingers pressed against my neck, seeking a carotid artery. once found, fingers resting, pulsing up and down with the beat.

i didn't want to cut my vocal cords. i didn't want to dig. i just wanted to find one simple spot to open up and sit down to bleed out.

i fell to the floor.

ill.

cried.

thought of the
woman in my bed
cats, family, music, photography

cried.

i couldn't physically end my own life because it made me ill.

and this is where i am. i did not seek this. i did not choose this path.

and this is where i am.

laying at my side as i type, the only person to treat me in a loving manner. crying at each other.

it is not revenge i seek for those who have lead me to this. it isn't even justice. that's not possible. this is not what life is supposed to be. not what i should be doing at five thirty am, or typing at three fifty-five pm when i have loving kindness next to me. but it is what it is. and those that have lead me to this "place" in "my life" are many. no doubt several of them, females, have sought a meeting with death themselves.

from them, i expect nothing. what i want or wanted stopped mattering the moment they exited that space between intimate and foreign.

from the collective known as my employers, i expect the same: nothing. but i know what i want. this is not a desire for revenge. i desire to punish my victimizers. not like spanking a child. but that does have a sort of sweet sound to it when considered. physical acts are pointless. all they know is one thing: money. the only way to "injure" cruelty and greed is to take away some of its toys.

knowing the chances... i've been courting death.

if life springs forth from "woman," why wouldn't "death" be female, too?

yeah, call the cops again, fucking lame

dear ex-girlthings,

you are so fucking ridiculous. call the cops. call the cops. call the cops. makes lots of sense. yeah.


you know how many people have called the cops on me? you know how many times i've had my personal life invaded by so-called concerned people?

when do i get to call the cops?

when do i get someone to advocate for my injuries and fears?


FUCKING NEVER.

raped

beaten

ruined

you liars

i hear the ocean calling

outside my third floor window
cracked an inch to cool the studio
the sounds of waves crashing
on a rocky shore that isn't there

the shade flutters in and out
wind blows with intent
if i don't look, i can see it
the ocean calling me

you brought me here, now
throw me over the ledge

i want you to see me smash
at your hands, on the bottom

outside my third floor window
no air flowing from the opening
the sounds of waves crashing
on a rocky shore that isn't there

watch my blood run down the edges
along the cracks in my skull, lapped
your wolves of desire and possession
thrown to, by your haste and cruelty

see the ending you wrote for me
watch my water turn clear in earth tears

you brought me here
years ago now,

finish what you began

the catch woke up screaming again

and no one is here to come ease my mind...
because i'm alone, as you left me, elise.

you said i was "a catch"
when you dropped me...
fucking prove it.

you can't, can you?

i should be satisfied with what i have...
yes, i know this... having had so little,
having anything at all should be enough.

but i want more.

i shouldn't have to suffer dreams like that...
it's proof of the considerable damage done,
that i have no control over how it affected me.

we don't select our nightmares

those who have done the damage owe me reparations,
which will never come from their selfish hands.
just as their apologies came from insincere mouths of words,
following up the words they used to bait me.

all equally dishonest with themselves and, ultimately,
misleading me through a waste of life,
leading me right back to where i started.

here i am, quivering and distressed,
the dream flashing before my open eyes...
playing back, interrupting reality

always expected to be responsible;
why no one else needs be so but me...
just another double standard i'm forced to live.

all i can do is be what i've been made,
suffering the time between moments,
alone, with only cat ears to hear me.

at least i'm honest about myself,
unlike the criminals who made me,
those who put me here

"[to roast] in an inferno of incredible horror."

random bits that aren't random

my apologies to whoever my answering machine hung up on last night at about 7:50pm. i didn't hear the phone, plus my neighbor's phone makes the same sound. i'm bad with the phone, too. but try it again anyway.

thank you to the kind females who chatted with me last night. i enjoyed the contact.

yesterday became today.

i didn't begrudge it much this time.

just the bit with my pills, is all.

it's amazing what a little human interaction,

even if distant and by text,

can do to the mood of a lonesome boy.

i also forgot my age.

that's never happened before.

i think i panicked a bit there.

but the rest of the day wasn't so terrible.

thank you.

weak forces

you identify me,
become the synonym to my heart,
my needs...

i am everything to you
for a moment,
an unmeasurable fraction of time.

i enter your event horizon,
yours forever... then,
you reverse polarity

return to your origin;
the antonym of my heart.
i have no needs before yours

foreign matter,
you are immune to me,
eyes closed, deaf to my sounds

i was everything, and became-
...
yet you still remain everything,
to me.

each and every one of you.
forever, till death and beyond
if there is such a thing.

madness or death

you're all culpable because you do nothing.
if i was a black/hispanic, pregnant, wheelchair-bound single mother,
someone would speak up for me.

but i'm just a worthless "white male" with no rights.
i only have a disability when you use it against me.

you're all culpable.
employers, friends, co-workers, lovers, family, doctors...

madness or death.
which is your preference for me?

you all did your part;
victimizers, blaming the victim.

gossip, office politics, and bastards like jefferson
who admit to enjoying the politicking.

you owe me a life,
what you took from me,
i want it back.

or i want nothing at all.

give me the resources to live,
or allow me to die with dignity.


the truth is here
and no one gives a shit


"bullying isn't illegal."
- Sharon Picus, KU HR Manager

the romanticized drama of the end game

UPDATE 2: i copy/pasted my related ranting from here (okcupid) to down below so that readers can have the full force of my rant all on one page...

i had one of those depressing realizations, laying here not sleeping, where another facet of the borderliner girls came into focus... oh, great. more clarity on painful topics. lovely.

part of borderline personality disorder is the act of bringing on the end of a relationship. it's called the self fulfilling prophecy. what creates the prophecy?

fear.

fear of rejection, betrayal or envelopment. sometimes all three. and maybe more than just sometimes. but there's another thing there. it's a need.

i look back and i can see the end game in each of them. what i hadn't realized before this morning, nor read about in my research, is that some borderliners actually feed on the drama of a doomed relationship. no, it isn't just a case of fear. there needs to be another shot of energy. another hit of adrenaline to the borderliner's system, because they've already gotten over the "new relationship energy" as people call the excitement of the a new companion or lover. they've already gotten through the drama of the first sexual experience together. the premature declaration of love. the agony over whether or not the borderliner is loved back as they need and expect to be. yes, there is a lull and it must be filled with something substantial.

setting up the dramatic end is the bookend to the original build up of expectations and agonizing over "does this guy like me?" that thrill of first contact is bookended by the thrill of the death of the romance, or the replacement of their infatuation (thought to be love) with hate (justified by something the lover did or does).

after the newness wears off, borderliners spend a lot of time questioning whether it's "real or not" and agonizing over "how is this fated to go terribly wrong?" it's called "waiting for the other shoe to drop," a phrase i never understood until it was used in the context of borderline personality disorder. after i had gone through it a few times. maybe even started to feel those dreaded "waiting for" agonies myself.

at this point, a borderliner becomes easily let down by their current lover or agitated by things they told their current lover were non-issues, way back during the initial orientation period of "i like this and i don't like that." suddenly "this and that" change. more distressing is the reality distortion. "it was always that way, you just didn't understand" or "i thought you would change" etc.

they start reverting to old behaviors previously "outgrown." they give up on projects and resolutions established to lure you in. they start comparing you to "the last guy" ... except this time, the tale of "the last guy" isn't fierce anger. this time, they aren't building you up as "the better catch." this comparison is the "romantic regret" comparison.

sometimes (at least twice in my own experiences) borderliners even attempt to, or actually do contact the previous lover or companion. they want to hear that all is forgiven. they now wistfully accept their own "contributions" to the failure of that relationship. the borderliner needs to see if they have been absolved of the damage they did, somehow no longer feeling quite as justified in their anger and hate as before. to maintain consistency with how you used to be an example of "how much they've grown since the last guy," they will describe this romantic regret as "wisdom and growth."

it's not.

it's just another one of the steps on the infinite stairwell of their cyclic behavior.

"he was polite, but he made it clear we were never going to be friends," she said to me.

i wondered why she had even tried to contact him. it worried me. i wasn't sure why, but i knew it wasn't fear of her going back to him. i sensed something more complicated. even though i thought she was bipolar at the end, i ended up seeing things a lot more clearly later on. bipolar would almost be a comfort because bpd is a complex system of setup, opportunism and rejection and demoralization. bipolar, in comparison, is almost comparable to a mood swing, and they can recover from it without swapping lovers out. borderliners make a complex and specific process out of each and every step of the cycle.

and they have to take that next step because they need the next shot of adrenaline and the next rush of "feeling." without it, they feel that something is missing or wrong because the high has gone and they have never achieved stability before and don't comprehend the concept nor know what it might feel like. all they can do is compare "now" to "before" and see the disparity between the stable "now" and the exciting "before."

"... but jace, you just don't seem to... you know."

no i don't know! you haven't told me!

apparently i just didn't seem to... you know.

"be the right one?"
"act like you love me?"

"behave as i expect you to?"

yep, that's the one. it isn't what she would have said, but it's what she was actually doing. she was turning the stability into a letdown. a letdown that sets up the beginning of the end.

when the old lover (or lovers) start getting a kinder and gentler appearance in the way they are painted, or when they reach out to them looking to possess some "friendship" as a prize to prove the damage they did wasn't so bad after all... when they start sounding wistful and melancholic and your very existence is no longer filling them with "love," "life" and "brilliant color" ... know that they are romanticizing the end of your relationship.

what's the connection between romanticizing the end and a kinder image of the previous guy? i'm not sure. maybe some the part of the borderline personality feels oncoming guilt for where they're headed. they can't put it where it belongs because that would mean that they are responsible for that oncoming doom. it is far more preferable to make the other party be the enemy than for the borderliner to be the seen as an impatient, intolerant, unloving bad guy, kicking away this latest lover for no real or rational reason. they have to find somewhere to go with this feeling... why not become all wistful and melancholic about the previous guy and soften the guilt by "exchanging it" for an older, safer event that is already in the past? re-association. re-assignment.

sounds plausible. i think there's still a piece of this part of the cycle i'm not getting. it doesn't fit quite right firmly. maybe instead of re-assigning the emotions, it is part of demonizing the current companion by making him seem worse than the others. i'm not sure. it might be a variation from one borderliner to the next.

still... this romanticizing of the end is definitely going on. some borderliners drag it out, with a mixture of intolerance for the current companion and self-loathing. some choose total hard-core hate and intolerance for the current "looser boyfriend" or "the asshole controlling/manipulating/holding back my life." sometimes they oscillate between the two.

but they are building up energy. driving up the emotions, piling on the anxiety so they can have that orgasm of the final moment. the grand "this is over!" the angry ones will just make you out to be worse than everyone else. the passive-aggressive ones will literally drive you mad enough to make the break yourself. either way, it's your fault, not theirs.

at best, you may get the "i still want us to be friends" bullshit. and the "it just wasn't meant to be" tripe. notice the romanticized fate breaking you apart... it wasn't her fault, really... and even though she said some unkind things, and/or pushed you into saying unkind things... it's "just the best thing for everyone" that it went down this way. oh yeah, sure. it had nothing at all to do with the complex set of expectations and demands that you propped up in your head, only informed me of about half of those expectations, or simply changed them after the fact, and then acted like i let you down or betrayed you. right.

at worst, you become the evil bastard they will vilify before the ears of every person who crosses their path from that point on, until... well, until they need to displace you from the throne of "worst guy ever" so that someone else can sit there.

how do you know which one you're going to get? look at the inbetweener. she probably told you about him. was he a quick mistake and a dismissed jerk or was he some poor misunderstanding that they tell you "i think i hurt him..." with the sympathy a non-pet owner gives to a co-worker's dead cat or dog?

"aw, poor thing. too bad about that. oh well, you know they just don't live as long as we do. you know eventually you have to let go and just get another one."

like with sex, the "cool off period" between orgasm, or shots of the drug of drama, vary between individuals. some will go cold and declare "never again!" (or use the near term equivalent "it'll be a long time before i ever love again, that's for sure!"). these are the lazy ones. others will head for a different destination to get the drug from a different source. this type of borderliner is the thrill seeker. the runaway. brilliant schemes and grand plans. time to travel. time to do "all those things he held me back from doing."

either way, the borderliner will find a way to still fulfill their short term needs. there's the thrill seeking, the drama, the casual sex and the poor, wretched inbetweener.

hmm... thinking about it, maybe the inbetweener is just a less important, convenience lover that gets caught up in a smaller, shorter round of the borderline game. i don't know.

like i said... "just call me Treg."


and, lest you think i'm a horrible awful man for all these declarations and bitter "judgments..."

i, unlike those who put me through their meat processor, possess empathy for their shitty situation. really, how long will they continue this mad cycle and how many times will they chew through lover after lover? it's not that they consciously WANT to harm or hurt. it's not that they consciously seek out the downs and the fears and the anxieties. their experiences have wired them up for hurrying things along. defense mechanism. their experiences have wired them up with addiction to that thrill and the rush of one drama or the other. the worst are the ones who have been brought to this point by physical and/or sexual abuse.

i know these things, too. i comprehend them. they interfere with my bitterness and keep me from being hateful. not that i haven't sent a set of hate mails in response to being toyed around and ground up... i admit it. but i know what's really going on and i know why. worst of all (for me) is that i still love them. i love who they claimed to be. i don't know if that claim is a real person or not, but it's the only thing i have that's any good, so i hold on to it. bitterly and ... sigh ... wistfully.

actually, there IS a scenario in which their behavior is intentional and conscious: a borderliner can progress only so far before they are aware of their own steps and procedures and either chooses to get help and change... or decide that they have finally found clarity and control by simply using all the experiences they've had as a map for how to manipulate people. not just lovers. friends. co-workers. employees.

this is when the borderline personality has gone from solid borderline stimulus-response to Sociopathy. willful anti-social behavior for personal satisfaction or personal gain. no longer motivated by fear (except the ego and fear of being called out for what they are), they are motivated by lust, greed, the need for accomplishment... whatever.

these are the people i have no empathy for. once someone starts to willingly manipulate another person, for personal gain, they no longer deserve humane treatment because they are actively behaving in an inhumane and socially destructive manner. a wound deserves treatment and care, but a knife requires a sheath.

or better yet,

something to dull its cutting edge.

But... then we're no longer discussing borde