There’s More to Life Than You.

After spending a very long time ruminating on things, reflecting back on my life and all the mistakes I made and feeling so much guilt, I first began to feel very unworthy.

But then I ended up looking back through my entire Twitter, and I noticed something that not only reassured me that I am worthy, but also really clearly illustrated the biggest difference between us.

They say that narcissists will mirror the qualities they see in you that they perceive as good. When we first met, you claimed that you were never able to let go of any guilt. You were plagued by the actions of your past and blah, blah, blah. But now I see that you were only mirroring one of my qualities.

I still feel guilt for things I did when I was a little kid, back when I was too stupid to even know better. It’s really rough to carry around all that guilt and never let go of it.

This is why I am always so adamant about getting closure about what I did wrong in friendships and relationships, so I can better myself and not make the same mistakes again. I looked back through my Twitter and found so much guilt, regret, sadness, and self-improvement.

I recognize the things I did wrong and I regret them every day. I have offered you multiple sincere apologies for the things I did, not even expecting a response, much less forgiveness or any of that.

But you have to be the victim. Like some kind of fucked up Highlander shit, There Can Be Only One! You’ve never once apologized to me for any of the horrible things you put me through and even tried to justify your actions in stupid, flimsy ways.

Between what the mystery screenshot creep has sent me and what I saw of your Twitter before you made it private, all you do is sit around and victimize yourself, hyperbolize things, talk shit about and make fun of me, and act like a selfish ass. Zero regard, much less empathy or admission, for the part you played.

I’ve spent the last year in therapy and getting help for myself, working on who I am and becoming a better version of that person. You haven’t, and it shows. My last year of tweets are very sad and saturated with grief, while yours are a bunch of self-centered bullshit, directing hatred toward me and getting your groupies who have never even met me to jump on board with you and eat up all your one-sided propaganda. I have directed no hatred toward you. Only sadness.

You’re petty. Mean. Selfish. And if none of your so-called friends haven’t picked up on it yet, they definitely will eventually.

I think that it would be in your best interest to really evaluate yourself and your actions. Actually seek help, which you can’t do until you admit you have a problem, and it’s okay to do that. There’s a man in TikTok who is a diagnosed narcissist, and is actually getting help for it. It is possible. And I know you can admit it, because you’ve done it before. I still have the letter you wrote me where you admitted it.

This is just my advice from a place of caring. For the people you may meet and hurt in the future. And if you’re any kind of decent, you will care about that, too, and seek the help that you need. It may be too late for me, but it’s not too late for them.

Think about it.

Erasure.

At tomorrow’s session, I finally get to start processing him and all the feelings, trauma, ptsd, etc that surrounds him.

It may take multiple sessions to completely kill it all off. But I’m okay with that as long as I finally get to destroy it. He made it extremely clear that he doesn’t care about my feelings (or our daughter’s, to be frank) and has no interest in salvaging our relationship and our family.

So I need this now. I need it so much and hopefully I can finally find peace.

A Major Offense.

You can’t know that you wouldn’t like me based off of some words on a screen every blue moon and a biased notion of whoever I was when I was at my worst. Don’t you get that sometimes things have to get worse before they get better?

All I wanted was loyalty, and you swore it. You swore to god, YOU SWORE ON FARON’S FUCKING GRAVE THAT YOU WOULD NEVER LEAVE ME. And look what you’ve done. You’ve dishonored him, and you continue to do so every time you call him your step son, as if you ever manned up and actually married me like you ALSO promised to do.

Imagine, in your entire life of half-assing things, I just ended up being yet another thing you started and couldn’t finish. And you dare to act like I’m the one being an asshole.

Kids having kids.

You keep talking about forging a future, but you’re clinging to the past.

You can’t be with me because you want to go forward, not back.

But yet you cling to the idea of me as you knew me over a year ago before I got help and began to shape myself into a person that I can be proud of.

I got better. You became worse. You’ll use every excuse you can come up with in order to justify not being with me. The only excuse you never use is the one that’s actually true.

Because you would rather lie to me than own up to anything, ever.

I hope Lauren discovers you for who you really are and gets out of there before you can hurt her as much as you’ve hurt me.

And when this happens, because it will, and you wish she would’ve been as forgiving as me, and you reach for the person who always forgave you and put up with all your shit and was willing to keep putting up with your shit even after you tore her heart out and stepped all over it… even after you destroyed her life and took away the very last things that mattered to her in her life…

When this happens, and I’m not there, just remember: you’re the one who asked me to kill the love. You refused to take any time at all to think really hard about making that call and acted in haste.

You refused to consider other perspectives and called it arguing when I just wanted to have a conversation with you about options. You’re so fixated on the fucking future that you seem to think you can predict it.

You say you can’t be happy with me, but you don’t even know who I am anymore. And you’ve refused to spend any time getting to know the person I am now. Your future vision is really just you clinging to the past which you claim not to want to do.

So good luck finding happiness, because you clearly haven’t progressed as I have, and I seriously doubt that you will ever find anyone else who will be as patient with your abuse as I was. You will never find anyone as forgiving or loyal as I am. I fought for you until I was nothing but bloody bones. Because I thought you were worth fighting for. How many other people are there in the world who will make personal sacrifices just for you?

You do know that most people are as selfish as you, right? Most people won’t forgive past a certain level because it’s all about them. People will ghost. Like you did. People will never try to work things out for the greater good, just like you didn’t.

So basically, look back at all the things you did to me and expect that 99% of people will do the same things to you. The other one percent is a rare breed, and you don’t even understand, much less value the good fortune you got when you found me.

Yes, I had issues, but I’ve been getting better, and I really thought you would’ve liked the new me. Sunny 2.0. But you blatantly refused to even give her a chance, even if it could benefit your daughter. Being a parent means that not everything is about you anymore. But it’s always about you; everything’s always been about you.

Do you know else acts like that? Little children who haven’t learned to grow up yet. They can’t help it because they don’t know. You just turned 30. That’s three decades you’ve had to mature and be an adult. But still, you act like a little child who will do anything to get their way with no regard for the people they hurt along the way. A little child who thinks the world revolves around them.

They are giving custody of my child to another child. How is this justice? How is this fair? I’ve been court ordered to get help since last spring. You haven’t been court ordered to do shit for your mental health, even though it turns out we both have the same mental illness.

And yet my mental illness that I’ve worked very hard to tame and control is the reason I’m not getting her.

Why do you get everything you want at my expense? You’ve ruined my life so you can live happily ever after. The person who loved you in spite of everything. The person who housed you and cared for you and paid for doctor visits out of her own pocket because you were uninsured.

The person who defended you and supported you, who birthed your child through months of pain and illness. The child that you somehow get to keep when you only partook in the fun part of her creation. When you have the same mental illness as me and have done fuck all about it while I’ve slaved away working on mine.

Make. It. Make. Sense.

Also, please grow up soon, before everything blows up.

Light the gas, and fuel my fire.

Maybe if, like, you didn’t feel the need to constantly lie about literally everything, then you wouldn’t lie yourself into a corner where your best retort is refusing to converse any further because you ran out of good backup lies.

Anyone who is smart will see the way you treat me and not want to risk going through that with you, too. So keep showing your true colors for your “nonexistent fiancé” to see.

You should feel fucking honored that I still have any capacity to care for you whatsoever. If you want me as an enemy, just remember this: once I let go of the love, it’s gone forever and is usually replaced by a stiff hatred.

So if I’m just an option you’re keeping in your back pocket for when whatever you’ve got now inevitably blows up in your face because you are incapable of being a decent human being, it will probably be too late.

You were never my option. I spent all this time patiently waiting for you. I got better. But you’re still a child. And why the legitimate fuck should a child be the one getting custody of a child, especially one he didn’t put forth all of the time, pain, sickness, and stress to bring into this world?

If you’d just been straight with me, things could’ve been so different. But if you think that I won’t fight for my daughter, you’ve made a grave mistake. She’s all I have now. And I won’t give that up without an uproar. A mighty Leo lion’s roar.

Because of course.

After spending the past couple of years building this blog and its followers, I unfortunately now need to take it down and burn it.

It finally happened that it was discovered by a person who has refused to take “no” for an answer for my entire adult life. She babysat me as a child, and that’s about it. And for some reason, she thinks this entitles her to having access to details about my life and will not stop tracking me down on every single social media platform to try to snoop on me, and it’s incredibly frustrating.

So I just got a message from WordPress saying she subscribed and will now get emails anytime I post.

I do not owe this woman anything. We were never in a relationship, we don’t have kids, she’s not family. Every single time I let her back into my life, she would end up having some kind of psychotic outburst on me, or just say and do really inappropriate things, like when my son was dying and she tried to say she knew exactly what I was going through because she’d miscarried, which is the equivalent of trying to sympathize with a rape victim by saying you completely understand what they’re going through because you got unsolicited dick pics before.

And after I said “Fuck this, I’ve got too much to deal with already, I’m not taking this,” she sent $100 to our GoFundMe with some passive aggressive note about how she wanted to get her hair done, but it’ll have to wait because of me. I refunded that shit so fast, and she had the gall to complain to my mom about it and demand to know what she did wrong, as if it wasn’t obvious.

That was the last time we had any sort of interaction, four years ago.

And yet, she continued to stalk my shit. I had to block her on Instagram, Facebook, etc. Take a goddamn hint.

Now, after all these years, she tracks down my fucking blog and subscribes to that, so now I have to delete it and start over, hopefully somewhere she can’t goddamn find me. So if you are a legitimate follower and have been following me for longer than the past few days, feel free to send me a message, and I’ll reach out to you whenever I find the time to get a new blog, preferably somewhere that has privacy settings.

I’m really sorry that it’s turned out this way, especially after I’ve spent so long growing this blog and sharing so much of myself with you. It’s difficult to terminate something that means so much to me, so for now, I think I’ll just make all my entries private.

But again, feel free to reach out if you are interested in continuing to follow my story.

And woman, if you send me some kind of fucked up, psychotic-ass, harassing message because of this post, take a moment and examine your actions. You sought this blog out because you can’t keep your nose out of my business. This entry wouldn’t have even been written if you hadn’t done that. It is a problem because you made it a problem by sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. So if you dare to get pissed off at me for something you did, I will not hesitate to post your message here for everyone to see.

Good luck with your life.

I’m sorry.

I thought really long and hard before deciding to actually post this because I didn’t want it to seem like an off-handed decision with no weight behind it. And when I say long and hard, I mean that for months, I kept coming back to the thought on an almost (if not) daily basis.
The truth is that I don’t feel like I can pursue art and music anymore. I know I’ve said similar things in the past during struggles without really thinking it through, but this has been on my mind for months as my ability to adequately produce anything of value began to deteriorate more and more. Throughout my life, I’ve gone through periods of art/writer’s block, but it never seemed as permanent as this. At worst, it might have lasted a couple of months before breaking through to a streak of intense creativity.
This is not one of those times.
It has been nearly a year since the incident, and there have been very few happinesses for me in all that time. Generally, I tend to create my best work during my darkest times, but I’ve come to realize that this was mostly due to having people in my life whose presence enabled me to make it through and fight to create another day.
It’s not like that anymore. The three people who cared most about me and never failed to inspire, comfort, and support me have either died, deserted me, or are forbidden from being near me outside of 9 collective hours per week during heavy supervision. I’ve watched my talents crumble and rot within the last year, and it hasn’t been from lack of practice. It’s a pure lack of the ability to get my heart into it. I know I’ve let a lot of people down who were expecting me to help them out with collaborations and the like, and I can’t begin to express how disgusted I feel with myself for failing people who believed in me. Please believe me when I tell you that it’s not because I’m lazy or that I didn’t want to help you. There’s a hole in my soul that has grown much larger since this time last year, and it exists in the same part that my creativity stems from.
I learned recently that PTSD is a form of brain damage and come to find out, it’s not really terribly surprising. If there is damage to the part of my brain that allows me to think creatively and take pleasure in creating, then it makes perfect sense that all of my abilities would crumble and wither away the longer this drags on.
Because that is one of the major problems interfering with my ability to create: it is no longer pleasurable. It’s just work, and when I’m aware that my work is coming out like trash, it further hampers any possibility for finding pleasure in doing it. A job well done is a job worth doing. A job done poorly isn’t worth the time and effort it takes to do it. And I don’t just mean my time, I mean yours as well. You, the people viewing/listening to it. You, the people waiting on a contribution to your own work. All of you. My work is not worth anyone’s time anymore.
And so it is with a heavy heart that I must announce my resignation from anything at all artistic for the foreseeable future, if not permanently. I know that this is a huge let down for the few people who supported my comic book that I absolutely promised I’d never give up on. It was never my intention to stop working on it, but at this point it’s really not living up to its former glory, and has just been a really sad shell of its former self. I can’t justify continuing it in this way.
Finally, the other major factor in my decision is that I have literally no chance of ever getting released from this nightmarish chapter of my life unless I give up on who I am in order to pursue a more “normal” lifestyle that will be better accepted by people who, while mattering very little to me personally, matter a great deal when it comes to paying the ransom upon my life. It is a ransom that cannot be paid with money, only action, and they do not care who it affects and how, as long as they get what they want.
For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry. I honestly never wanted any of this, and I wish to god I could change the past. But that kind of thinking is only going to cast me in the wrong sort of light, so… I’ll just say what’s done is done, and it’s all my fault. I’m sincerely sorry to everyone for everything.
Take care, please, and always foster your own creativity, even if you feel like you have no talent, for creativity is a terrible thing to lose. Trust me on this.