Tuesday, 27 December 2016

cough cough


I cannot even begin to describe how very fucking much I have had enough of this bullshit drama I have found myself in, berift of all that matters; namely love, care, compassion. My son, still.

People often spout platitudes at this time of year, all that hope and goodwill lies people tell has they scoff and purchase and pretend to give a shit about anything. Have hope, have hope, nearly there.

Fuck that. Fuck all of you who are culpable in the misery that has been enforced.

You can stop. Right now. You could contact me here, or on social media, or in person, and say; "yes, this awful mess is real. I acknowledge. Here are the details..."

Because I do not understand, still. Though Ive long figured out my actions and words, whether private or in public, are shared and known. People comment in the street. I enter countless orchestrated situations. Reeks of some shitty Derren Brown reality show. How much do you see, how far is this spread, what the context is....

I dont know that.

I know that I tell the truth to those I meet. That during this I have been raped twice, at least that I am aware of. That I am writing this with healing fractures, that I have been assaulted numerous times and recently been wrongfully sectioned and assaulted by gangs of so called professionals administering overdoses. That someone who claimed to love me, my old best friend, spent our entire relationship being abusive. That people who have raped me, assaulted me, or been witness to these events in the past have been paraded before me in obviously staged circumstances. That all services are refusing to do their jobs correctly, or help in any way and only continue the harm. That all of this is real.

That you have been coughing down your sleeves and laughing the whole way through.

Why.

What the fuck do you think excuses this....

Not to mention that a little child has been left without his mother. This time can never be replaced. I will never forgive any of you who are culpable if he has been further harmed, if he has truly been with his abusive cunt of a father this whole time. The man that literally tried to kill me.

This is not a trick. Not a game.

It needs to end.

I am about to be made homeless. I am struggling with healing. But I will not give in to the abuse. I will not be silenced. I will get my son home.

I sincerely hope that you have been mis-led. Despite my telling you the truth over and over again. This is not an act.

Yes I am an activist and so as awareness filtered to the top, here and there, more and less, I willingly gave voice to social issues. There are many others that suffer too, also very real, also horrifically common place and everyday and in need of stopping. That was desperation: that perhaps some glimmer of good may arise from this. I stand by this, still, though those same services and causes have harmed me too. And laughed, and primped.

Such fun, isnt it! Trying to break some one. Attacking them, drugging them, raping them, breaking their bones, scarring their flesh, destroying a chance at a life, a home, a family. Taking their fears, their nightmares, and making them manifest. Such fun, so titter ha ha.

Again, what do you think is worth this...what lies could you have been told to make you think this is ok.

It is not ok.

It is real.

Break the silence and stop the harm.

I did not give permission.

I do not want this.

There is a court order superceding my will, I believe. That is the only way this could be done. Whatever you think it is, this has also been used for a clean up: investigations and expose. The courts have over view, undoubtedly. They have allowed this.

Again, why...any of this could have been achieved in a better manner, if anything has been achieved at all apart from the harm. I am reluctant to think that it has, as shallow and brief as the scenarios have been. The pathetic drama of it, and those I come into contact with, sickens me.

Though, sure, that may also be recovering from multiple overdoses of paracetmol, and olanzapine injections.

The way everyone just uses. Just abuses. Just makes excuses and stupid symbols. Like it has any substance or meaning. Like I should just lighten up and "enjoy the wild ride". Fuck You.

I want it over, I want out. I want my son.

And I saw him briefly the other day, just for a few precious moments, unexpectedly; and they were the only moments worth living for since last I saw him. he has grown so much, still the most wonderful child ever, but quieter and uncertain. He is 8 years old and he needs his mummy. We need to be whole again.

I dont care what you think this is, help me end it. Please.

Dont be the monsters in the dark.



No comments:

Post a Comment