WILDWORLD

im still alive in some way and im not going to dance around what i want to say here because i dont have it in me. and im not going to get into whats been happening to me for two months because its nobodys business. i just hope everyones enjoying making fun of me in private in whatever ways theyre choosing to do. especially jules -- i hope you felt really good and empowered ignoring all my emails about how i deserve a better apology from you after you actually literally told me "im more sorry than i can say" and then left it there. being a horrible person about peoples problems behind their backs is something youre really good at so i have no doubt in my mind youre spinning a load of total shit about our time together to everyone else after saying to me that you know you owe me an apology and i was really clear to your fucking spam filter or whatever that i did actually want one you didnt construct in two minutes that didnt acknowledge any of the stuff about how nasty and apathetic to absolutely everything youve become and that also didnt end in you telling me to remind you to mail my fucking clothes back to me but. god knows youre probably busy thinking up fucking private zingers about your slowly dying ex who there is no reason for you to exercise your superiority over given how well established and accepted it already is and how much it hung over my head every minute i was with you but whatever point is i know im not going to feel any kind of real catharsis with this whole rotten thing before im done so im just going to bleed it out as much as i can

you laughed at me when i thought you were going to slap me and you got me to pay for all your groceries and you laid on the couch playing video games while the visitingp arthritic did your dishes and you said "well, i havent had the chance to strip you down and examine you" to me when i asked if id gained weight (and you wonder why i felt like i had to keep putting out when you say crude and creepy shit like this and see nothing wrong with it?) and you sent me home alone which was so fucking ridiculous efe messaged me to say "oh my god im sorry about how disrespectful jules is being to you". this shit happened you cant tell me it didnt and you cant blame it all on feeling shitty while i was there. im not done, im not done with this. how about when i was going to get into online sex work and i told you i was having doubts about it and that it made me feel unattractive and hyperaware of how unfeminine i am and instead of telling me i didnt have to do it or even that im not ugly you basically told me to learn to spin myself and my intersex-induced androgyny as an fetish. that would kind of make your jokes about me paying your bills through said sex work less funny to a normal human being i think. you remember after chat and their friend left and you called me into the kitchen literally entirely to bitch about how one of them had picked all the meat off their pizza and what a waste that was and i had to say actually i did that, you know, me, the humiliated anorexic whose food restrictions you kind of know? you remember intentionally speeding up in the car and yelling as a joke about how we do the "same shit every day" even though you never wanted to go outside or do anything that might make me feel wanted? you remember how the only time you ever seemed to feel any excitement was when we got to talk about someone we didnt like and you could call them an idiot and make fun of them for not having a job or not going to college or whatever thing you forgot that day was also going on with me? remember that out of all the things wrong with my murderous ex you chose to laugh at him for being too disabled to have anything more highbrow than a supermarket job? remember talking about how youre glad youd never be stupid enough to do drugs knowing fucking -- everything you do about the people ive been close to? remember talking over a schizophrenic about laws regarding schizophrenics getting visas and trying to force me into getting a diagnosis that wouldnt let me live or work where i wanted to by repeatedly telling me i just didnt understand what i was talking about (by the way they literally ask you about mental illness when you are applying online even to VISIT, WHICH I HAD TO DO)? do you remember when i showed you serious writing by my dead friend and you read a line from it to me and laughed then didnt apologise after you realised it was by someone i loved who was literally dead? its like you jump at any little chance you can get to be an ass. these things add up, jules. you remember asking me if i felt like "going to wait in the car" in 80 degree weather when i was having a catatonic episode out at lunch with your mom as though im a fucking dog? do you remember not fucking taking your medication that might have stabilised your mood and made you less angry and unnerving to be around but snapping at me constantly over how confused and in pain i was and had no option not to be? do you remember snapping at me publicly on twitter when i couldnt understand the passage of time and was confused over how long youd been in the shower as though i can do literally anything about that? do you remember when i struggled to walk once and laid on the couch too ashamed to talk about it and you got impatient and told me "if youre not honest i wont help you"? do you think all of this is justified because i depressed you? does it actually surprise you that i came onto you one night the way a groomed child who thinks they need to do the only thing they can does -- i was licking your hand, for gods sake -- after that grooming was dredged up (not even getting into the actual big trigger of you telling me about a dream you had where you molested me and how you thought it might make or have already made you molest me -- which, actually getting into, fuck you, who ever tells a schizophrenic with a minefield of a history regarding comforting people over thoughts of hurting them about bad shit you could be doing to them in their sleep) by you constantly making me feel stupid and useless and good for absolutely nothing? you think carelessly acting like and invoking imagery of my abuser barely months after i was going to go see him and be probably raped and mutilated (oh, sorry, im supposed to be past this thing that completely fucking destroyed my world and put me in a state of such constant fear and abuse-programming i asked you to potentially drive up three hours to get me if he hurt me too bad -- what happened to that person by the way? why did he start doing things like laugh at me when i thought hed hit me and then not understand why im acting weird around him? -- because i got to make some salty tweets about him sometimes) does not maks me act in turn like you are my abuser? i even bought you or paid for most everything that i did hoping it would make you less sick of me because your rotten attitude still had me in that “i need to do the only things my stupid useless ass can to appease you” place but all that got me was being publicly humiliated when i bought you a ring and you told me apropos of nothing in the goddamn shop that you wouldnt marry me (ill say it one more time: never asked, jules. i wouldnt have, with how you were acting). i put on the happiest-to-be-there face i could manage while i was with you and you can call it me being fake or a coward or whatever you want to but im pretty sure by now you know why that was. you remember tweeting right in front of me about how the thought of people not talking about their problems with you to your face just making you wonder what kind of image you projected to them? still wondering? do you remember me saying “what do you want me here for if not sex”? do you still think that has nothing to do with you as a person?

you remember making fucking snide tweets while i was in immense suffering about how annoying i am to be around and how your dms were full of people wanting to know if i was alive? you remember how these tweets were right there waiting for me when i almost started to think i would survive? hey if you messaged jules at any point to ask if i had managed to die yet while you were still able to care i just need you to know that was really exhausting and he was using only the most emotionally complex undertale reaction images about you on his private. nothing i could do could justify this. im tired of it. im tired of nobody online feeling anything real about truly horrible things. me and my family are suffering more than i thought humanly possible and right now im probably nothing but the feed to a snappy tweet about how much julian loves having npd because he can lose people hes known for years that turned out just too hard to deal with or arent making him feel very good about himself after he was horrible to and about them and everyone like them and it doesnt bother him at all and theres nothing about that that needs examining. and none of his friends will care because why shouldnt he feel better than me and then get to probably resent me because of how depressing and difficult that feeling of worthlessness hes dragging out of me makes me to be around?

this isnt about him really. all of this is a. microcosm of what i really want to say just one more time which is that the world weve made for ourselves online is an emotionless nightmare. i already know everyone is laughing at me as they read this but all our social media circles are cultures of arrogant apathy and this is what made me crack. im not joking when i say that as someone who spent years of their childhood being groomed this just feels like a bitter continuation of it -- it even makes me act the same fucking way. your worth is all about how far down you can force your pain while trying to amuse and entertain and seem special which is always always done either by throwing others under the bus or by figuring out how to make something awful youve suffered and never recovered from and never will recover from while its a joke -- into a joke. you know, before someone else does it for you. i feel like all i know about interaction with most of the people i was supposed to be closest to is how to make ourselves feel better than others, how best to package all our fucking issues as funny and relatable, how not to care. caring is the worst thing there is. ive seen julian talk about how he cannot wait for a callout post for his goddamn game where people in a volatile relationship (sorry, "the problematic ship") romantically choke each other knowing that ive had a lover threaten to murder me this way (which, by the way, yeah, thats why i never talked about it. it triggered me and you were so excited to upset someone with it i never wanted to tell you. i never wanted to tell you fucking anything because thats what happens when everything is a joke to you). when someone made one because there was a word in the game they didnt like (it was “idiot”, full disclosure) everyone gathered round on their private twitters and went fucking wild it like there is anything thrilling in saying, at best, "i dont feel the way you do about this thing" and its for the same reason as everything else, its because we're visualing this sad, impotent anger weve decided someone must be feeling towards us (or would be, if wed say this shit to them) and we're excited because in this narrative weve invented theyve commited the terrible sin of feeling something real, pathetic in how real it is, and they got caught doing it because they dont know to keep all this to a private circle where you get to construct your careful and incredibly tired image of being a bad bitch thriving on the simultaneous adoration and jealousy of everyone near you. the best thing you can do is this environment is weaponise (haha! i used a meme word!) your disdain for other human beings and hope their disdain for you comes off as pathetic where yours doesnt. everybody is so excited to hate and be hated by someone so here is my fucking offering to hate. i was one of these bitter people trying to feel superior and i am ashamed of myself. i wish i could tell you how sad and pointless all this looks when youre losing yourself. almost everyone i know or thought i knew is an empty body without organs and we're all defined by a line of ever-morphing hurt and hatred flowing through us forever. this isnt a joke except i know that it is. the most nuanced and empathetic thing anyone has to say to this very public decay of a real person is probably going to be "yikes" because everything can be a joke if you try. the punchline is that in the end your slow mental and physical deterioration results in nothing but tweets about having to sort through irritating messages regarding it no matter how much desperate noise you make. your parents knows youre going to die before them. your ex boyfriend of three years who really truly believes something separates his coldness from what hes designated as tired, ineffectual passive-aggression says "lmk if you want your shirts and underwear back" then blocks your tumblr that hasnt been used in two months and will now never be used again. and he probably feels like hes really accomplished something, too.