… but I do
Maybe because I’m a First born, we are known for our innate need for Justice, for fairness, for “Even Stephens”. Or maybe it’s because I’m a Dual Capricorn. It could be my Legal background or because I’m a Mum. At any rate, recovery from an abusive situation hasn’t lessened my ability to read the signs.
I’ll call it for being descended from Cerridwen and Tailesin, for being a daughter of Glooscap. Certainly, it doesn’t take degrees or Mensa to read a shift in the wind or more aptly, a Klimt on acid-like arrangement of binary code.
Are you with me?
Hell. Even I have trouble keeping up to my ADD / OCD thoughts once they’ve been stirred in that old and horrifyingly familiar way. He used to have me up at all hours of the night – his favourite torture – doing Internet recon missions for his real paranoia and his self-constructed “evidence”.
I feel like that right now.
Watching the same old patterns. The same old everything, regardless to who I am or what I do. The patterns repeat because people don’t change, especially those with something to hide or something to lose.
Slander is a prosecutable offence.
Sometimes I wish I was an American with that penchant for suing. It’s not like I don’t have enough evidence. I simply don’t have the cycles to sue people who are pathetic. They have to live in their skin. That’s punishment enough.
I content myself with the knowledge that Police files and my friends and family, those who were there, who saw, heard, interfaced with… and eventually saved my life; know the truth. It does hurt at times though, especially when another cycle of this all-too-visible bullying begins.
I will never understand how people can spend hours, days, weeks – talking to people, talking to experts, reading – about how to buy a fucking cellphone but when it comes to something as important as the character and reputation of another human being…
All it takes is one slanderous voice – one sad, pathetic voice – whispering complete and utter lies and you won’t raise one fucking question (start with “Who the hell would do that??!”) or one fucking finger to check the source.
Still with me? Probably not. Whatever. Half this shit never gets read anyway.
I’m sick of slander, I’m sick of lies. I’m sick of two-faced friends, I’m sick of it all. Like I said, you don’t need to be a psychic to read patterns of behaviour. So if all it takes for you to walk away from me, is the equivalent of one GT Boutique flyer’s worth of info to my Library of Alexandria’s worth… than by all means, please fuck the hell off and go hang out with the other God-spouting, deluded, morons.
16 September 2015