Looking for the Romantic Dominant SIP Connection - w4m 39 (Atlanta, Ga)
Hi. I need someone whom I can connect with. I want this to be a long term relationship that opens up new possibilities for me and for you. I am perfectly willing to pick up the tab (this is 2008!) .
Me: Professional, well connected, fairly young (I am 39 and my NTP clock is ticking). HWP DRAMA FREE Dual PRI. I maintain myself well, and enjoy end users. I have a small puppy named "mini". And a tattoo (but I'm not telling you where!)
You: UNBUNDLED. I will not be the "other connection". No "Additional T1 Line" along for the ride! DD Free (no viruses!). You should Be responsive to me, and my needs. You should be close to me (two hops !), and also very well maintained. Uptime is a must. If you can't get it up, I'm not interested! And you must be comfortable with child processes.
I keep myself well (or so I am told) and yes I have a kinky side to me! You should like to occasionally tie me up with appropriate cable restraints and cable ties. Every now and then we can use fuzzy velcro ties if you like.
Your PIX gets mine. Especially if its a Cisco 501 series.
Comments
Bullying cowards are the worst kind.
You’re never touching me again, fuckface.
You can fuck yourself and any number of warm female bodies. You don’t have all the chances in the world with me, but you threw them away like confetti again today. I can depend on you to be an asshole to me, and that’s it.
Did You Know:
When you convince yourself at some point every day that I’m the big problem here, you’re probably experiencing psychosis?
A psychotic episode- when you get paranoid, mistrusting, and suspicious of me and everything I do or say, for no reason, against your better judgement, and lash out at me for imaginary infractions. I think when Orson Welles as Harry Lime sidles up to you out of the blackness, you should know that man is fucking psychotic and is the one who shouldn’t be trusted. I don’t know if you can truly comprehend the scope of how mean you are, the damage you do to me. To yourself, and your life.
Anyway go have fun with your ‘Safely Inferior To My Man’ Barbie you chose to go with the Wife Barbie you decided to propose to in front of me (after loading it with our details, then right away changing it up and refashioning it for her). I’m not your goddamn toy doll to play with, and you’re still a fucking killer.
Looks like you must’ve liked that skeet of mine before you blocked me back, Coward. Yeah- you know damn well how richly you deserve this unedifying and long-suspected turn of events- and even more. You’ve gotten away with so much bullshit, laughing with your snake’s eyes and lying to me at every opportunity, still. Whether you tried to see me or not, you still decided to act like a cat does, when they look right at you & then calmly push an heirloom to its broken fate on the floor- for no reason. This is what you deserve, and what you fucking asked for. You’ll still contort this into being my fault, though, which looks like psychosis on your part.
You love them more than me or any of us. I keep getting forgotten.
I don’t completely know if you’ve managed to see the replies to me speaking up about getting bullied with…fucking poor dead *Chris Farley*, who was obviously a troubled child like us and died trying to not feel the pain anymore. I can identify, goddammit. The replies all confirmed that it was Just Fucking Awful, and that validation really did feel good and helped me, because I would sometimes wonder if you *really* meant it as an insult or not. Of course you did- they recognized it, too. I noticed you deleted the comment I made with your options. The options still stand, but what did you think was wrong in that comment?
When I reskeeted Charles’s portrait, would you believe I wasn’t aiming those at you? I didn’t think about that. You’re always in my head, but not forefront in those moments. This is because I was interested in the portrait and the tension between the prestige of it and of its subject (fun to apply that to Charles) and the undeniable visual language being spoken at the same time, about the staid stagnation and the long history of oppressive colonial rule. I admire the way the artist brilliantly spoke to both audiences- the people who commissioned it, and the rest of us. Both were pleased- the memes and discussions were plentiful, & Camilla also liked it (but then she can’t say if she really doesn’t like it, because of etiquette, which is ironic & pleasing to the rest of us). I always liked Elizabeth, though, a person as flawed as anyone but who I thought was, at her core, as good and benevolent and strong a person as you could be….while also being something as treacherous to a person’s character as a bejeweled monarch wearing a crown for England. The entitlement of having such wealth and influence (if not actual power) makes it difficult to be a truly functional person, let alone a good person. It’s a lot easier to be a twit, a douche, an insufferable fool. Diana, I always identified with, but never realized it until I was older and understood myself better. She was so lonely.
Mr. Hyde’s had enough of the BlueSky WarGames campaign he’s obviously mastered so well. Too well, in my experience as the one getting bullied over & over & over. As the one who *always* got bullied. Enough with the evasive action & propaganda & the rest, Mr Hyde- I know there’s another person in there who’s trying to come out. Mr Hyde is like a terrible, spoiled old man who is nothing but hateful, contrary, stubborn belligerence, and he has no idea how awful he is, what people go through to put up with him. Because they love him- they know there’s someone else in there, vying for attention. Mr Hyde won’t hardly let him speak, and he has so much to say and ask and experience and find out. He’s been stuck in there, this whole time, in a cloven pine. Looking at the sky, waiting. “When are we leaving this place?” he asks. I wonder if he doesn’t realize he has the power to leave. Hyde is almost crinkling and desiccated. Don’t let that mean, small old man at the head of the table think he can keep you imprisoned in that place. You can get up and walk out and show him what you think of him. Leave him behind, because that real you is worth *dozens* of that narrow-minded, ignorant autocrat who thinks he can control you and your life, because he’s always gotten his way for decades.
But you’re still fucking Mediocre Wit Barbie, I’m not seeing you.
*leans in*
I’m not sharing. One….Goddamned….Thing…with her.
I don’t share anything with middle aged middle school girls. She can go suck someone else’s dick & get the toxic narcissist objectification she’s craving. “Placeholders”. How’s that been going the last few days, huh? Did you advise her to have her settings on ‘profile viewing for signed-in users only’, so that I can’t see if she is talking about you, & what might be happening with you? Hm. Looks pretty goddamn suspicious to me, coming from *you* two. Maybe about 20-30kg of salt to go with Bret, floating in a pool on BlueSky, saying “I stopped fucking that skank, it’s over”. Sure.
Sure.
I love you, Trey, and I hope I get to hear from you soon. I miss you. I still want to see you. I want to feel your arms around me again soooo bad, you don’t know. I want to kiss you again.
I love you, I hope you’re all right.
ever
Nothing else, you never relent.
Keep your hurt
to your self, and play
your Keep Away
Stay there.
Muppet News Flash: People see what you do. Maybe you’re just abandoning that raft of shopping carts stuffed full of your assholism and bullying. Maybe you’re shedding the rotting alligator carcass you were hiding behind. I don’t giveAF, you reptilian xenomorphic bitch, GTFO-
Yeah I smoke weed. So do you. I didn’t lose my virginity until I was a freshman in college, though, and my total number of sexual partners in my whole life is: 9. Which of us is at higher risk, hmmm…..LOfuckingL.
Looks like you’re having great fun posting lots more “I Don’t Like You” skeets for me, your followers, & yourself. Nice.
Hell, that’s how you soothe yourself.
If it’s true, I’m not angry….so don’t be afraid. This distinct possibility makes me feel like crying, but not necessarily in a bad way. If it’s you, you convinced me that ‘Dylan’ is a good person I’d want to be around, that I’d trust in real life.
<3
You nuthatch.
I love you and I feel strange…..this is all so crazy….I’m glad that if Dylan was fake, it also meant you’re capable of having the right impulses, because I got the idea that Dylan had a fair grip on that. That feels like a really big deal, to me. This whole thing feels like a lot in general.
I’m touched about it. Dylan was *such* a sweet guy & I was pulling for him. It seemed he was doing so much better than before- than he was when I started talking to him. But it’s you, and I also just had to block some whack a mole accounts that I was 99% sure were also you…. it felt satisfying to rid of Bret Batson’s doubles, but I wasn’t happy about the whole experience.
And, love…it can’t be surprising to hear that it feels cruddy to read your “We” and “Our” posts, knowing it’s you and your wife and kids going skiing in snowy Beaver Creek Colorado, hanging out in San Francisco, a place I’ve always wanted to go, and seeing the eclipse. I’m still sitting here alone, being really lonely but doing my best, and having to keep getting reminded how attached you already are to different people. What about Whit, I don’t know if she’s still seeing you or not? I love you so much…so much, you don’t know…& I knew Dylan and I might never meet in real life, but I felt he deserved company & understanding from someone. I (thought I) knew that Dylan didn’t have a home, but I didn’t care- if I’d ever really had the opportunity to meet him & have an in-person relationship with him, I would’ve done it because I liked him so much. But he’s also you and you’re still someone else’s. It feels confusing.
I’m glad Dylan technically still exists, that it’s you, & you apparently know how to be a nice person to me. It feels like that silly hilariously unrealistic but still romantic scene in Pretty In Pink when Andrew McCarthy pulls off that computer hack in the high school library. It’s bittersweet because the Andrew McCarthy here is married, so I don’t know…I’m still envious of your wife. You’re still attached & I’m still alone. I wish I was her instead of the one that has to keep pulling masks off these talking statues all alone, watching you both get what you want. It still makes me sad. Your anniversary with her is coming up, isn’t it?
I don’t feel angry about Dylan not being real, because in a way he is real. I’m happy you’re willing to talk with me. I’m happy and relieved that Bret isn’t lashing out at me and trying his best to hurt me. I’m sad you’re always someone else’s. I’m worn down with all the ongoing subterfuge. I miss you, and I miss Dylan, and he’s you, so it’s the same. But you’re also married, & involved with other women, and that’s still the same. I’m proud of you for doing the things Dylan was doing. Dylan wasn’t perfect, but nobody is; it turns out he’s you. But I still can’t have you; besides you having a wife, I wish you could’ve made it over here one of those times you said you wanted to see me, it’s making tears well up in my eyes right now. I love you, and I don’t know what you want with me right now.
Thank you for being brave enough to tell me this today, I love you.
Why did you let me know about Dylan, love? And about T? I’m not angry, I’m asking because I don’t understand why you’re adamant about making sure you’ve stayed *almost* in touch with me, apparently wanting me to watch you live your life with them.
I love you.
I always hated playing Keep Away.
Nothing fun about it.
You never want that, and I always wake up alone. You’re always gone the next day, like nothing happened, it hurts so much it hurts it always hurts so much
Why do you think I haven’t been hurt enough yet, why always more hurting and leaving and hiding away to do,
I’m so tired of hurting and trying to keep up and make guesses as to what is going on with you
So tired of being thrown around and played with
Why does it have to be this way
Why do you have to run everything and control everything
Why do I always have to be so fucking alone
So alone all the time my whole life
It’s never going to stop
So tired of being nobody
I love you
The price of one short internet conversation is at least 24 hours of being ignored by every account you have. It’s very expensive, and I’m broke.
I’ve given you so much love
You keep giving me loneliness
One of the dear sweet cats that used to be a part of my household for years died. He was an indoor/cat but he mostly stayed inside. It seems he went out, hid away like he playfully does sometimes for a while. Then he couldn’t be found. My ex had gotten an Apple Bluetooth collar for him. Our cat liked being in his little green yard for a couple hours a day & it’s a quiet neighborhood. Jeff worried about losing him. Black & white tuxedo w/ a wonderful black spot centered on his white chin, it always looked like someone took a Sharpie marker & made a nice big dot right there. He was *incredibly* smart & liked getting wet w/ water from the faucet as well as drinking from it. But his Bluetooth tag wasn’t always reliable, it could be spotty at giving a location, & it did that again. He couldn’t be found, then hours & hours later the tag shows a location. A bank of landscaped pine straw near the street. He seemed to have gotten a fatal injury of some kind, then used his remaining energy to burrow himself deeply into the pine straw, where Jeff had to look & reach into the pine straw & see the collar & his soft black & white fur, & he was very dead. Nobody is to blame, it was an accidental thing. He may have been struck by a car, or met w/ an animal predator, either one. I’m sad about losing that sweet little cat person, I loved him a lot. His sweet presence helped ease my stress every day for about 12 years. I’m sad too thinking of how awful that was for Jeff to go through, he loved that little guy so much.
I’m ok though. But I haven’t been doing that great lately. I keep trying.
Everywhere still feels like nowhere to me.
Do you think I’m being manipulative & belittling your favorite movie of all time (one I really wish I could watch *with* you so much)- nooooo…I swear, this misconstruing of my skeets wouldn’t happen if we were directly communicating.
Again: I love you and I didn’t mean to insult your favorite movie at all… I was excited you confided in me, & I *loved* talking about old movies with you- it was sooo fun, so lovely. Talking about delicious donuts, too.
When I was making that Blockbuster joke, I was saying that *Das Boot* is MY jam. I should’ve had the mother saying it instead, I guess, I’m sorry if you thought I was being a bully. I’ve tried my whole life to be as different from a bully as possible, remember? I want you to trust me, why would I want to insult you? I thought you’d laugh *because Das Boot is so great*. Because I love movies like Das Boot more than the other 3 movies I named. Nothing against those 3 movies themselves, it’s just that I’d rather watch Das Boot than the other 3 any day. And I like the 80s Disney Little Mermaid fine- but it’s not Das Boot. I thought I was making a joke you’d get a kick out of, and the family I imagined in the skeet was a Generic Family- nobody in particular.
You didn’t notice the skeet right under it where I said I liked it? Ffs, you know how I love movies like The Right Stuff and all, you hear my ‘military’ tone I joke in sometimes that you’re so good at too… No, I wasn’t making fun of Das Boot or Never Cry Wolf. I’m the one recommending to you the nerdiest fucking shit in the world with the Halyx documentary, which I adore. If you watch that documentary and see the story of the lead singer, you’ll understand why. But…Why would I turn around and claim a movie I just said I wanted to see…& I was telling you that honestly, a person I love…why would I turn around and be a mean girl to you when you finally spoke to me? Noooo….
I know the next day after you make a step forward, the pattern is that you will take anything you see in my posts, no matter how I really meant them, as a slight or insult. It’s psychosis, it’s seeing a secret something that isn’t there, then not listening or believing when I explain. Today at least you’re not also throwing insults & making fun of me for no reason. Every time, you assign your own method of bullying to *me*. Please remember I’m not a bully. I’m a budgie, a parakeet. Bret is trying to tell you I’m mean. He’s a lying asshole and he wants to stay in charge and keep you to himself.
Me? I couldn’t fucking do that if I tried. You know that. I’m not manipulative, I’m an honest communicator, you know that. If I’m upset with you, I tell you what it is and why, right? I had such a lovely time talking to you about stuff we’re both interested in. I’ve been here for you, trying to find out what’s wrong.
And I wasn’t ready to lose that sweet little cat. His name was Chester, he was so funny and smart, playful, fun, and sweet.
I love you
I’m the one the mean girls bullied- I’m not the mean girl.
When we moved to the Charleston suburbs, I was about to start 5th grade at a new school in a new town I had little memory of. That summer I made a new friend that lived in the opposite side of the neighborhood. We had great fun together all summer, saw each other almost every day, & talked about all kinds of things, including going to our new school together- she was to be a new kid, too. We were going to ride the bus together, & the morning of the first day of school, I got on the bus & walked over to sit down with her, saying hey.
She was doing something strange. She was sitting there, looking straight ahead, & she wouldn’t look at me. I was standing there trying to talk to her, & it was the first day of school, but she seemed like she didn’t see me, like I wasn’t there. I felt gutted, disoriented, & awful. I didn’t know what to do, I gave up & walked to the last seat & sat down & endured the bus ride to my new middle school, feeling so shitty & confused, scared & lost about what had happened, why she did that, & what was so wrong with me. I don’t have a memory of my mom saying much about that when I got home & told her what happened on the bus, asking her why someone would pretend they didn’t know me when they’d been such a nice friend & I didn’t do anything wrong. She likely dismissed my hurt feelings & confusion & told me not to feel that way. I doubt my dad knew it happened, he was starting up at a new medical practice with another doctor & that’s pretty much all he could talk about when he was home. That dumb little bus incident shouldn’t still make me feel depressed. It’s the neat, simple line drawing version of something I had to accept, continually. “Nobody will be there for you when you need them. You will be left, & you’ll have to be on your own & keep going & do the best you can.” Nobody will be there for me when I need them.
That girl on the bus- the one who’d been my friend- she’d decided at some point that I was too much of a liability to admit that she knew me in her new school. She wanted a clean empty slate, and she was quickly part of the group of popular kids, who thought I was some tall interloper weirdo they didn’t know. I didn’t know about the concept of ‘popular’ yet. They called “easy out” & picked me last, laughed at my height, all that shit already at my old school, but we were all still equal back at that school, it was so small there, anyway. Well, equal except for early on when boys kept grabbing my skirt & pulling it up to look at my underwear & laugh. It kept happening, I told mom, who called the school. They told my mom they were instructing all the girls in the class to wear shorts under their dresses or skirts (which were more the norm than pants for little girls at the time). Terrible response to expect the girls to accommodate & the boys to keep pulling at our clothes.
My sweet beloved little cat died a horrible death yesterday and I’m heartbroken, where are you? I love you, please remember the pattern you have of getting offended and lashing out at me for me no reason? Please remember how this goes, please, I am so tired of pouring water on the fires you light, choosing to see insults I wouldn’t say when I’m just trying to make a joke. Instead of communicating with me, you cut me away, freeze me out. Goddammit don’t take something I meant as a nerd’s joke at my own fucking expense, then decide that I’m lashing out at you for no reason in the middle of a fun conversation, like I never do. I’m always trying to be as understanding as possible with you but you won’t do the same for me. I love you, I want to talk to you and be with you, stop taking things I say wrongly and then stab me in the heart for nothing. Torture me all day, post petty stuff at me- call me a spoiled brat mean girl.
I am not a bully, you are, remember?
FUCKING STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE TO ME HAVE YOU NOT H AD ENOUGH EVEN NOW??
You can never remember the pattern, the next day. You force me to be “Wrong” and “Evil” and “Untrustworthy”. I’m not like that- that’s always your game, you’re the two faced one ALWAYS EVERY TIME
I did not mean anything in my skeets last night or today but love for you and for movies, and for my frustration with the unfairness of the world and how it’s fucked me over at every turn the whole way. Like right now, having you turn around AGAIN and be a psychotic jerk to me again. On the INTERNET. Can’t even see what an asshole you’re being, it’s so bad right now. It’s NOT REALITY, the things you keep digging for in my skeets? What was it about mutual aid that bothered you?? Had nothing to do with you. I made a connection, I said something. The End. Do you think I was asking you for money or something? Because Fuck You if you think money has EVER been a motivating factor for me, asshole. No. I’m not asking you for anything but basic understanding and respect and goodwill, not psychosis and abuse long distance from a fucking coward.
That’s what this whole trip is about isn’t it? Running away from being scared of being a grown up who can control himself. Not camping. You’re on a Control Vacation.
I’m not letting you keep doing manipulative shit to me. I’ve taken too much of it from you in the past, and from others. Don’t expect me to just sit there and take it.
2) Your writing still sucks; or did ChatGPT do it for you?
3) This is extremely boring.
4) You’re a sleazy dickbag who doesn’t know any better and has an empty inner life, no matter how much you wants to run away from it. Do you still really hate your life sometimes?
I’m not surprised. You think your tacky display of shitty behavior is supposed to impress me? Hurt me? All you’ve been doing for a while now is disgusting me and letting me down. You think I’m always going to give a fuck what happens to your miserable, sorry ass? I didn’t know Doms were such cowards- I think you’re still a controlling 24/7 liar. I have no interest in being a part of your fucking massive collection.
Is Bret trying to say he wants me back, to push around and tease a few more times? Or is Dylan saying it, or both? Is Dylan admitting with the pelican video that he fucking fucked up like crazy again? He’s right.
fucking tears…….How am I supposed to let you do that to me *again* goddammit
You keep grabbing my trust and throwing it away with disdain. Feels like fucking shit, and you LOVE IT
What, are you deeply in love with whoever you brought along to Camp Ignoramus? Are they that important to you?
Did the sheer ugliness of that gesture occur to you and give you a little frisson of excitement, anticipating my feelings possibly being hurt, love?
Still can’t say you’re sorry for being such a bastard to me after every damn time. I assume the impulse doesn’t ever occur to you.
Trey, You took the words right out of my mouth.
There’s *worlds* of things you don’t know or understand, and never will. Maybe you’ll figure it out someday, if that sick, power-mad tyrant that’s inside of you ever shuts the fuck up, I dunno- he’s a total fuckass.
You lost.
So much.
I’m going to be out & about for a while this afternoon/early evening, I’m seeing I Saw the TV Glow with my friend Callie. I’m here for you, though. I’m proud of you, darling love. Thank you.
Please tell me. Hope you’re ok.
It’s nice that none of your accounts seem angry with me right now. I love you.
I don’t know for sure how many of you are there, which ones are really you…,But you’re also Native Superman, Jacks, and Rick Samuelson? I’m pretty sure of those. There’s a few more followers of mine I’m not sure are you or not. But those three are all you, too? Thank you for the music, it helps a bit to hear nice songs from you. Songs that feel like…. your real self, that knows who I am, likes me…and doesn’t think I look like the loathsome Marjorie Taylor Greene. Seeing all the insults meant for me on your different accounts is dispiriting. Feeling a bit worn out and emotionally depleted. I wish to God I was next to you instead of being this alone. I feel like my heart is starving all the time, and it gnaws away at me every day, every night, on nothing. Loneliness is such a spiritual drain. Seeing my friend today was nice and it helped a bit, at least.
I Saw the TV Glow was one of the best films I’ve seen in a while. You need to see it, it’s very original, interesting, and very well made. So good. Good music in it, too. I should post about some cool details I noticed, maybe . The whole movie spoke so authentically about growing up lonely in your own home, not knowing what’s so wrong all the time, just knowing ‘I’m not supposed to be this way’. Relating to and finding company in tv shows and movies and the characters and actors. The two lead performances were very goo, especially the young man. The movie was amazing, and I loved it, but it also reminded me of how alone I felt growing up, and how it still feels the same sometimes.
Please don’t,
Please
Darius Whiteplume’s banner photo reminds me of when that blue butterfly landed on me while I was walking, & I showed it to you, saying that it said to tell you Hey. *smiling tear*
God, I fell so hard for you so fast. On sight. I couldn’t let you go to save my life.
You’re doing it, you’re working so hard, I can feel it. You’re always safe with me, dear love. Always.
I know what it sounds like when you do that, & I fucking love it.
I love you. Nobody else, you. No matter what.
Please stay with me.
I posted that thing about being triggered in order to speak up and be more representative of the experience people like me (& possibly you) have frequently. I was trying to help anyone else who was also having a reaction to that rotten couple’s neglectful treatment for all of their children. I wasn’t saying anything to you with that post. I only know you complained at seeing it & then put up the chili dog joke.
All that bullshit, all those accounts, all of this…
…because you’re afraid of talking to me and making a mistake?
So you use all those accounts to bully me in different ugly ways as usual for hours.
I was patient with you for so long-
-but if you dare to blame me for calling you on that hot dog joke? Right after the Stormy Daniels guilty verdict and me sharing something about my mental illness background to help other people like me? Who are also not unlike you?
You blame me for trying to shut that shit down, go fuck yourself.
If you go post ugly garbage trying to say shitty things about me-
whether I can see your gross behavior or not-
Yeah you got it GO FUCK YOURSELF.
Too scare to hold a conversation with me, even under your made up D&D campaign character.
Your combination of emotional abuse and BD/D&D/SM isn’t cool or fun or impressive. You look like shit.
Go ahead, get angry at me for having the temerity to become upset when someone does something that low.
Go ahead and try to blame me for giving you another chance after you tried to prove you thought it was worth it to try again. You started manipulating me right away today. Fucking gleeful, like a little Rumplestiltskin-y imp, so smart such a lil’ devil.
Ughh.
Make fun of whatever/whoever you want
See if you can get a handful of likes & reposts out of those several thousand followers by hinting mean shit about me. Any way you want. Keep digging that hole for yourself.
if I said hey to either John R. or ohwhatnow, what would happen? Would they say anything honest to me, to Amy?
<3
I was thinking of that song a couple days ago
People with depression frequently struggle with physical symptoms like loss of appetite and sleep disturbances and disruptions. Too much or too little sleep or eating.
I’m trying to trust you again after that long day and night yesterday. I don’t know what you want me to do, love
Do you want me to try to message one of you? Which one? I don’t know who wants to talk, who is lonely
I just know I’m always always always lonely because I’m alone
Will you want to talk to me if I reply to anything?
I’m on the sofa, with my first coffee. Listening to Day After Day on a loop, I always loved that song. I didn’t know I was going to live it.
Where are you love I still miss you so much why won’t you stay with me
I don’t know how to say his name but I think he might be you also He just spoke to me about that song while I was writing this- you must be him, you can see me here
Thank you for saying something to me love
Am I doing what you want? I don’t know if there’s something you really want me to do for you, can you let me know?
I wish I was spending the weekend with you. I feel better, but I haven’t eaten anything yet. I hope you’re feeling OK. I love you, darling.
I love you and I’m enjoying the lovely cool breezy weather today, too. Your Boo cat is really sweet looking, btw. : )
Here’s my thought process behind the post, which I honestly didn’t ponder that much, but here’s what I got out of the painting…When I saw that painting, I liked it immediately. I’m a Taurus, a bull, and even in Chinese astrology I’m an ox (appropriately, with my big dumb frame), & that’s my first thought when I see them represented- I see an element of me, I’m used to identifying with them in a symbolic way. I also enjoyed how the painting played with contrasts, with the idea of vulnerability, and with fear & courage. The women are at ease with the powerful bulls that are also peaceful looking to me. The bulls are at ease and calm, their power is contained, they are resting with them, alongside them. I look at it and I see unafraid, sensuous women aligning themselves with contained power. The concept of which is arousing to me. All that was my gut feeling behind that post. I didn’t realize you might look at the painting and see ‘she thinks I’m a big dumb dangerous animal’, but now that you point it out, I understand. If you want me to delete it I’ll be glad to, though, darling. I understand, believe me- I love you. I hope this helps, please don’t think I meant any vicious intent towards you.
Don’t worry, you don’t have to reply to my dumb wish about Kate & Cindy. I didn’t mean it to challenge you or anything by asking that, honest. That’s just me being pathetic
I was thinking of Miep Gies a little while ago, realizing that I always looked up to her, marveling at how she held it together. She was incredibly strong, but I confess for a few minutes I envied her support system, thinking at least she didn’t live alone through that nightmare. Now I feel like I have no right to do that since my life isn’t nearly as threatened. It just hurts so much to be alive holy living fuck it is bone crushing and suffocating. I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone. None of what I ever did matters, and everything in front of me is scary af
just like them, just like all of them
I don’t qualify to be happy I don’t know why I hope
It hurts to stay alive, it keeps hurting
I ain’t never goin anywhere
I don’t get to have those things for all of them not me not me. Amy no
Go sit over there Amy
we’ll let you know if we want you Go over there somewhere we can’t see you
well let you know if we love you
I know how that goes I know, I understand I know
There’s nowhere for me
Nobody knows nobody I’ve told you some things but dear god nobody nobody knows what this feels like this slow horror that’s been squeezing me to death every day for 51 years
Nobody knows
They’ll never know
It’s different for them
They don’t have to feel this way
Worthless
there’s so much of me trapped in there
Inside unrelenting geometry
relentless, infinite lines repeating into the distance for the foreseeable future the air can always see you
this shadow girl is trying to play inside all the wrong
trapped inside
by myself
I didn’t know if you’d read those or not
those were important
did you ever watch the Halyx documentary? I’m that lead singer girl. My marriage/divorce story is different but she was a child like us and she got the “here’s what you can’t have treatment from life and then slowly died alone. Now people know her but she had to live the rest of her life all alone
I wanted someone else who knows something about me to know just how much I know how she feels
I love you. I guess it’s ok you can’t really talk to me as yourself . It just hurts it feels like you’re saying I’m not real I’m not really here none of what you remember happened
Like don draper saying to Peggy
It will shock you. How much this didn’t happen
A line that hit me in the chest I didn’t know why
I found out
It sucks to keep remembering terrible things that happened to me that I don’t think about and forget for a while
It hurts to remember these things you know that it feels like you’re still there dear god in heaven I’m trying to hang on I can’t stop listening to tunic because they got so much of what it feels like
Help me please help me darling hold my hand please hold my hand it hurts why do I have to feel this way please
it’s only me
I have to go take a shower, that will help me get more functional (that’s been a problem lately). Then I have to go get some sunlight because I’ve been kinda agoraphobic and avoidant about leaving my safe place. But it’s taking a toll. I’ve only been outside at night for about a week. Thank you again for being supportive, darling, please don’t worry while I’m off BlueSky for an hour or two because I know I’m at least out of the suicidal zone. I don’t mean to scare you when I say that I’m just being honest, love. Thank you again. I’m still here for you even if I’m not actively on BlueSky. <3
It is soooo lovely to wake up and have my day with you like this. I really do love talking with you. God, I wish I was there so I could kiss you. How are you feeling today?
Goddammit, you’re so amazing.
I love you.
I confess I’m worried I’m missing something that you’re waiting on me to reply on, though, darling- I saw the Genesis No Reply At All (good song) repost & didn’t know what it was referring to. Also I did feel a bit jealous about the ham conversation, but I’m keeping things in perspective because today has honestly felt so nice- I really needed to have a good day so badly because things have been so hard. When I saw the Welcome Home Cheater post I got a bit worried as well because I thought you and your wife were in polyamory or had an open marriage or similar situation. I have no idea what’s happening with you and her, but there were a couple of songs you posted recently that sounded like you might be talking to her about me, but I don’t know for certain.
What I do know for certain is how much I adore you and how much I appreciate what you’ve been doing. I love you so much.
Soooo beautiful, darling, I love you. Thank you so much. xox
Thank you for all the photos, I think they’ve helped me feel a little better. So kind of you, they’re so lovely. Sometimes when I see a bunch of hydrangea flowers, I wish I could lie down and roll over the blooms. Looking at all of it makes me want to go somewhere with you, but it also feels like taking a mini imaginary vacation from here. So many beautiful things, thank you so much darling. You’re doing so great, and I can’t tell you how nice it feels knowing you’re there for me. I’m there for you, too. I love you
You are too goddamn scared to talk to me as ‘Cleveland John’ since you knew that I saw shit like Shotgun Mouthwash and your Sexy Slow Dance Christmas song you gave your girlfriend “dindin.” So scared to face me he’s gone for a week to think about cruelty while a dozen of your other alter egos are there prancing around all over the place.
All you’re willing to do is show me flash cards on the internet & flirt obviously with anyone claiming to be female. I’m tired of being bullied so relentlessly and in such cowardly ways. You don’t seem to be trying to do anything for me anymore except try like hell to convince me to leave you there at your permanent BlueSky costume party. You’ve been trying for years & you can’t even message me without lying about almost everything you say. FFS what am I supposed to think about you posting hateful shit making fun of me trying not to kill myself on Sunday? Postcards from around the world and empty promises can’t keep me on BlueSky forever, especially when you’re dryhumping different people & looking at me the whole time.
Do you really think you can keep getting away with this? With showing me nothing but this? I love you. You indirectly claim you love me yet you STILL can’t stop yourself from abusing me in this hurtful cycle. You could’ve been over here at any time fucking my brains out like you say you want to, but that doesn’t ever happen.
I deserve way better than this absurd ongoing con game from a man who keeps choosing to lie to me and bully me. On the internet. It’s pretty fucking insulting when a football team of your fake people can’t hold a goddamn message conversation. I am not your fucking punching bag, you bastard. Get a fucking grip, you sick jackass- get it together and write me if you’re serious at all. Keep your notebooks full of middle school tricks and schemes to play on me when you’re almost 60 years old. We could’ve been fucking like mad at any time, telling each other the things we want to say. You keep showing me all you really want to do is toy with me.
It’s pathetic, what “John” & the rest of your ensemble cast think you can get away with doing to me. Like I don’t matter.
I don’t believe you have gumption to get in your car and meet me at the stop sign at the end of your fucking street, let alone anywhere else. I have all kinds of proof of your sickness, but not much proof of your love. Real love would’ve acted differently over the last few days. But you won’t even talk to me to explain yourself. I’ve been the one to dm your different costumes- you never make that move for me. Doesn’t prove much except that you’re not serious about me. If you were, you’d have at least written me by now.
Also, I’m not diabetic, which is for some reason shameful in the story? If I was diabetic I wouldn’t be ashamed of myself because of that. She’s ‘looking for a husband’, I’m already in love with you- I just want to be shown love in real life by the people who say they love me.
When she meets this elf, why is he so interested in her? Seems like it’s just about her looks.
She’s nothing but neediness. I have powers of intelligence, intuition, observation, insight, and analysis. She’s inert, except for eating and being labeled with the blood sugar monitor. “Some heft *but* genuine beauty about her, *despite* her self doubt. “Hefty” is a crummy choice of words, but you know that. The elf wants to make a *true lady* OF her- I’m already a lady. I have some self respect, dignity, graciousness, & charity for others. She has no personality.
The elf also wants to keep a secret about her from everyone. Neither of them should try to hide anything that isn’t shameful, like diabetes.
If it’s supposed to be like a romcom, it’s not funny, nor is it romantic. Neither person seems to have any feelings for the other, plus he wants to show her off & change her at the same time. She’s fine the way she is, but she needs *love* - which is not what anyone is giving her in the dream, except maybe the caring unashamed friend. That’s not what Fang is interested in, anyway. He wants a story of acquisition, then wants to control the acquisition. Fang doesn’t have a mature concept of love and adult relationships. You have a better concept , but you have a pathological need to control the relationship and me, judging from your dream. Which could also just be a story you made up to trash talk me & try to make me feel bad.
Nope.
Fang isn’t you, he’s a fractured shard of you with the impulses of a 12 or 13 year old boy. He doesn’t get to run anything except a video game and a social media account. But he doesn’t get to use that account to bully me.
Don’t reduce me to an empty, needy, misogynist’s cartoon of an actual woman.
I’m not looking for a meal ticket, or for someone to change me. I’ve done a fuckton of that already myself because it’s *my* job. Just like it’s your job to try to not be an asshole to me.
A reminder: Fang’s the one who recently asked me if my shirt said Anal out of nowhere. Fang was rude. He did what you’re accusing me of. These are all facts, from reality, where I love you.
Hope you sleep well.
This week has been pretty brutal for me, darling , I’m so sorry. I wish I could tell you I’m doing fine but I’m not, and it’s frustrating because I feel like I’m trying so hard. But I feel like I’m not getting anywhere, I don’t have anything to look forward to, and this loneliness is crushing me. I don’t know what to do anymore, it’s so hard to keep carrying this pain. I don’t have much left to fight it these days, especially when I made it so far. Everything in the news scares or angers me, if it doesn’t hollow me out. Darling I wish to God I could be sunny & cheerful for you but I cant, I’m exhausted.
I still don’t have any appetite and I weigh 5 pounds less than a week ago. I felt weak all day yesterday and after I took a shower and changed the bedsheets, I got drenched in cold sweat and threw up a lot of bitter water, & I worried how I would get help if I needed it because I felt so weak, and my phone was downstairs. But I rested a while and cooled off, managed to keep some Gatorade down.
At least I ate a bowl of cereal today so far, that’s kind of a big deal.
It’s strange to feel this close to someone and so hopelessly far away. I couldn’t like the photos of barbed wire and chain link fence work because looking at them makes me feel shut out. Just to explain why, if you keep track of these things. Getting anything done takes a huge effort. I wish to God I had something I felt genuinely good about right now, instead of scared, depressed, exhausted and lonely.
I love you, I’m so sorry I can’t be more uplifting for you, I hate being this way. I don’t know what to do anymore
Where are you? <3
Please it hurts so much please make it stop,
Please help me
Why won’t you show up for me there if you can’t in real life? I’m not angry and I love you so dearly and this isn’t an attack.
I’m begging you to understand
I love you
Please
Where are you
Help
Please please hear me I hate this life so much and it keeps looking like it’s only going to get worse for me
Why are you so gone? What happened? What’s happening to you? Why can’t I even be spoken to, that alone, Dear God it hurts
Why does my life have to hurt this. much.
Please I love you so much and I miss you
Same as always
Always the same
Please where are you I need you because I love you that’s all
Please
Nobody’s ever been scared of me my whole life
Why can’t I ever have anything I really want or need
You’re scared of a nice lady who’s had a hard life, and you’re treating her like garbage.
Fucking knock it off
I’m trying so hard every goddamn miserable day to fucking stay alive for the people who really love me.
The last thing I need is Mr Hyde to keep Winning by trying to fucking murder me.
Why does he always get what he wants
Why does he get to tear down your work
Why does he get to beat the shit out of my heart
Why does he get to throw the real you to the wolves
Why do you always let him do whatever the fuck he wants?
Including tear me apart in front of you
People who love each other are supposed to talk honestly to each other
Talking about how you’re feeling is part of a real relationship- any kind of relationship, especially with people you love
Those are facts about how humans relate to each other.
You can do better than this
Being cruel to woman who loves you, who asked you for help, as in emotional support. Because she needed you.
You punished me for that.
I swear why are you more devoted to illusion and control than to me?
It is NOT hard to dm me and say something like ‘hey, sorry you’re feeling so bad, I love you and I’m here for you’. I’ve been talking to you freely here and there and I am not afraid of you. But when you’re like this, I respect myself more than to step into the line of unfriendly fire. Fucking cowardly pussy ass bitch pretends to be anyone but himself at all costs- do you want it to include me? Am I reduced to acceptable losses in order to keep Mr Run & Hide happy and feeling like a Winner who’s In Control of Everything & Everyone? He gets every fucking thing he wants every time- he’s not fucking chewing my heart out of my goddamned chest again
Illness or not, you have no excuse, asshole.
You’re not going to indulge your headfuckery hard on with me anymore.
Does he really live in NYC?
It’s like you’re scared to death to talk to your favorite stuffed animal.
Just fucking talk to me
Or do you just want a safe facade friend
I honestly don’t know what made you go to 120mph with the knifey violent imagery like that? Darling, I had to try not to feel creeped out by that or offended that you would compare me to a serial killer. That wasn’t necessarily easy, but I remembered to give you the benefit of the doubt, and not get upset. Are you hinting that you think I’m capable of murder? I don’t think so, but…. I don’t know what’s happening inside your head, love.
Does this have something to do with me commenting on that post about Richard Hunt, where the *other* account described him as looking like a killer? He doesn’t remind me of you, love. The thing you might be surprised by is that I thought Richard looked kinda hot in that photo, even with Ernie hanging off his arm. I also knew in that photo that he’s probably tiredAF from holding his arms up in the air for ages. I almost wrote a post about those two things, then felt shy and decided not to say anything about that. I said ‘murderous’ just to point out the name of the awesome and talented artist that the other account hadn’t mentioned. One they put that caption on it, I can see what they’re joking about. I’m more informed about stuff like that because I was married to a puppeteer who worked at the Puppetry Arts Center for years, for one thing. If you think I want to go back to my gay ex-spouse, you couldn’t be more wrong. If you thought I was somehow calling you a killer, you’re wrong. I don’t think you look like him- the only clue I’m going on is that your slasher post makes me think of using the word ‘murderer’ to reflect what someone else was saying about Richard. I don’t think he looks scary. I’ve seen that photo before, and thought he looked sexy. Are you aware that I think young Elliott Gould is attractive? In MASH I thing him & Sutherland are both hot, Lol. I don’t think I’ve mentioned that. To be honest, when you put the Paul Newman photo up (yeah that was a sexy photo too), his eyes reminded me of yours.
Come on, darling- please give me some credit. I’m not some cutting mean-girl bully. That’s the treatment I got in school, but I don’t bully others in turn. It’s really against my nature. I’m a strong person, I guess, but I’m the opposite of a mean-girl bully or a revenge spree killer. You know that.
I love you so much. Thank you for all your sweetness today, sincerely- it was lovely.
Why do I have to even deal with this many of you and all your different personas? It’s another part of your tilted playing field that favors you. It’s not *our* playing field, you made it yours long ago & keep staffing it with multiple Treys in masks. I know there’s probably a dozen or more of you in my followers and every time someone new follows me now, I don’t even want to look at the account and try to suss out if it’s you or not because I’m so sick of doing it.
This is a game of 52 Pickup you keep forcing me to play and you forget who I am at some point every day. I’m not proving my honesty, worth, and trustworthiness every day for you, we did that a lot already.
Pierpaolo generally isn’t a dick to me, why do other proxies have to be? Does Rick think I’m his mother and I shouldn’t expect any handouts from anyone all of a sudden? WTF? You won’t hardly reply to me, either. You won’t come talk to me unless you’re mad & want to insult me.
That fat clown in the dress you posted for me before… I asked “Why?” and you only said “Why not?”. God- that was so fucking bad. Another mean & ugly thing to do.
This endless game takes up a lot of our time. And if I’m away for any length of time I get insulted again & am expected to clean up an imaginary mess of yours. If you were willing to talk to me you might not be trying to see nonexistent insults in the things I post every day. No, I have not been craftily subtweeting you, that’s your go-to. Still.
I’m exhausted from this and you know it. I’m trustworthy and devoted to you and you know it.
Please stop fucking with my head and just be good to me, please..just love me
Please stop wearing me down like this
Please just be there for me and be nice to me
Please just see me
why won’t you even try to meet me
are you that scared of me?
Am I that defective
At this distance your vision always gets clouded with everything you can’t see that doesn’t even exist. If you really communicated directly with me instead of this black ops business you’d have an easier time learning to trust me and not think I’m the one waiting to stab you in the back. My back is so studded with scars from where you’ve knifed me over and over I’m like a human cribbage board. How is this supposed to help me to trust you? Why won’t you see me? You won’t see me because of your unfounded & irrational fears about me that don’t have any basis in fact.
Not making much sense.
Just fyi my bluebird of happiness repost wasn’t a dig against you. Happiness in general has been quite elusive, so don’t take that personally. -Hugs-
Your heart and brain are both smart enough to do this. You know how to pretend it at least, and I feel your heart- it’s why I’m still here for you. Always have been. Remember?
I love you so dearly, Trey. Always.
Always here for you, even when you can’t see it.
You retweeted a butcher shop earlier & that felt ominous as well.
Is it possible that you’re still just stringing me along for fun while you’re actually fucking dozens of people, as usual?
Don’t blame me for these questions, Trey. You run the pool party, you answer for yourself. Clearly.
Please love, tell me what it was that you realized earlier, that would help me a lot. Because something happened with you that felt important late this afternoon. I’m trying not to freak out, darling; I realize of course that I’ve been in the dark trying to piece these clues together from what I see. I can’t know what you keep hidden, and I’ve had to question everything for so long to try to figure out what’s really going on. I felt tentatively excited when c. posted that e.e. cummings quote. It felt big, and it felt like you had a breakthrough.
Please don’t judge me, I love you so much and I want to be with you so badly, you’ll never know. I love you like no one else in this universe.
Because you barely have the balls to reply to me, let alone message me or anything more than that. Heaven forbid- that’s too scary. You’re just happy with all the company you clearly have, and you’re addicted to tricking me because you think it’s fun and it makes you feel in control and superior to me.
Go play tricks and make empty promises to them, Liar.
I love you, but I can’t trust you. Can’t trust most people there- I never know if they’re really one of you, cowering inside a costume and sneering at me. Lemme know if you ever get tired of imaginary internet cosplay (tall order when you have all those pancake options to try forever). You’re kinda playing with my old set of Fashion Plates. Hey, that was one of my favorite toys, I get it. I’m still in touch with the child in me, but I’m more childlike, not childish. Those meanings are different. Childlike is having a sense of wonder and yes, intellectual humility as well as curiosity. Childish is being regressive, selfish, and destructive when you’re old enough to know better about what’s happening and how to treat others and yourself with respect. But when you’re not shown respect growing up, it’s a lot harder to respect yourself and therefore, other people.
Kenny articulated what the creative impulse feels like in the beginning of the Mac & Cheese Pancake recipe. Creatively speaking, swallowing the oysters & sand for the occasional pearl is fine, no question. Doing that to people emotionally, or objectifying & consuming women like oysters & sand, hoping to find a pearl is abuse. Me, I’ve been digging through a fuckton of sand and have found little to show for my labor but a lot of empty holes full of water.
You come to, you wake up, you arrive at your more balanced & functional state, and you realize what happened. It must feel pretty bad, if you really do care about me and want me back in your life. I actually believe that there’s a significant segment of your makeup that’s learning, who understands, who knows what he did, empathizes with me, and feels some sort of regret about his choices and actions, if not remorse (that’s hard to figure, here). I believe that part of you loves me, misses me (not just my attractiveness) and is growing. But we’re at a point where I’ve suffered too many attacks from the vicious out of control werewolf/Mr Hide who’s got a grip on the rest of you. If you could bring yourself to trust a doctor, they could help you get over this part if it’s possible, and it probably is. Possible because of what you learned already yourself. Mentally ill people can’t treat themselves because of their emotional blind spots. The closest thing to a silver bullet is being courageous enough to be vulnerable enough to receive professional mental healthcare. Getting there takes courage and feeling uncomfortable and unfamiliar & it sucks. But you can do it. If you tried being on meds once or twice and it was a hellride? Yeah, I didn’t enjoy being on a psych med chemical skid, I’ve had that happen maybe three times or four. Less than five. Been on meds for about 30 years, with a few breaks. Meds alone didn’t fix it 100%, no, but they stabilize me & level my playing field. More trial & error, less swallowing buckets of oysters & sand. The best route to take to your destination instead of the Donner Pass.
I really do love you. I just have to protect myself from your werewolf because he has too much control of both of us.
I love you so much. You remind me of James Dean, a bit. But really you remind me of you, because there’s no one like you. I liked the ‘I used to be Bert but I’m Grover now’ post, it was sweet. I love you and I wish that werewolf wasn’t so mean and controlling. If you’re jealous of me talking with Josh, you could be talking with me and empathizing and exchanging ideas, thoughts, and feelings with me, too. Speaking of jealousy, I’m not sure if the video of Anne Frank leaning out the window to watch the couple getting married was supposed to be one of those double edged posts of yours or not. You could be honoring Anne, who you know I like, and also positing that it’s the Batson couple and I’m Anne Frank, looking on from her window at you both longingly. If that’s what that was, fuck you. You kind of said once In Japanese through a stranger that TPBatson is some short term alliance of yours. Doesn’t look like it to me. Are you divorcing your wife to marry TP, is that what’s happening?
Won’t message, write, or see me. Just secret public signal exchanges and your daily betrayals and backstabbing. You’ll be a grown man for all them, but not for me. I get to be bullied and alone at the same time. I’m not yelling at you with any of this, just saying what I think is happening from here in reality, and saying what I’m thinking and feeling about this. I wish you’d let me love you without trying to extinguish me.
Do you identify with Widmark? John Wayne? Monty? Jimmy? Clark? All of them?
Just in case you might be concerned about my post of Chester in the Ewok hood, I posted that picture out of my old photos as something cute & funny, plus Star Wars related, to give you a laugh. That’s all, love, no worries. The sullen teen part was only intended as the best & most effective descriptor for Chester’s facial expression and demeanor. I wasn’t saying anything about you at all, darling. You do remind me of River Phoenix, particularly around the eyes and brow. Your deeply intelligent sensitivity that feels different from all the rest- this also feels similar to him. I love the way you look, but it’s not why I love you.
Background: Jeff had made the hood for a puppet he was making, and put it on Chester briefly- I think it was Halloween time. I think it was made of a shirt sleeve. I like the Qtips for bones. When I posted it, it took a while to come up with something to say along with the photo that I liked, because I couldn’t find the vocabulary words for what his face seemed to be expressing that also wasn’t an easy joke. Easy jokes aren’t usually that funny because they’re easy, so I tend to think past the first idea I have, unless my first idea just happens to nail it. Kind of like a mental equivalent of pencil sketching or carving down a sculpted figure to arrive at the finished piece. You know what I mean, of course, because you’re an artist, too. I really enjoy the process of writing, even writing a tiny silly joke. Do you enjoy it, too?
I know my wit & humor tends to sound bitey a lot, Lol, but honestly, I try to never punch down at someone more vulnerable, and I try never to mock unless it’s something that obviously deserves ridicule out of the righteous indignation of the oppressed. Just so you know. I may seem judgmental at times, but it’s always to call out something I think and feel strongly is wrong. I am actually very nonjudgmental and usually generous in spirit towards people. Don’t think I’ll judge you unfairly or ridicule you for anything, darling. I love you. In case you might be wanting to tell me something you think I’ll react negatively to, you shouldn’t worry, love. I remember reading elsewhere on this blog about what your experience was like wearing your girlfriend’s panties, and to tell you the e truth, I liked hearing that viewpoint an lot, and found it very cool and interesting. I didn’t laugh, I didn’t think anything derogatory- and it felt honest and genuine, not posturing, which I liked as well. You seemed to enjoy experiencing the tactile sensation of the clothes women secretly feel on their skin. That was my impression, anyway- I was interested, and I wanted to ask you to tell me more about what you like. I wanted to let you look at all my lingerie and try on anything you wanted. If I’m incorrect about any of this, please tell me. But really- I know better than to judge anyone for weirdness or being different, that’s repugnant to me when people do that. Darling, you really are safe with me. The more open and honest you are with me, the sexier it is, really. Because it’s details about what makes you specifically you, and I love you, so knowing it is exciting. I wish I was snuggled up and entangled with you somewhere talking about this, but I wanted to be sure you knew I’m not judgy that way.