From the ashes...

I could write for months with the details of what has happened to me during Phil’s “show” and “episodes” that pedophile Susan promised everyone “she won’t remember”. In truth it’s all in the time capsule anyways and I much prefer the drip tap. What’s the point of having a big red button if you push it?

I suppose what breaks my heart today is the knowledge of what they did to Alex. What started out as a good cop and an honorable man that I adored, Phil and Sheena and Lauren and Susan twisted and manipulated and warped and destroyed with lies and black science.

I still can’t talk in detail about May 28th, 2023. I haven't fully processed it yet. I’m still in that disassociation phase where it “didn’t happen”.... I convinced myself that because he showed up in court it simply didn’t happen, even though I know in my soul it did.

Phillip’s most favorite torment has always been mental torture. The kind that twists and warps a person's soul and ideals and honor code, and the whole time he strings you along using your greatest weakness. With Alex it was his greatest fear, catching AIDS. His reputation was the thing most important to him after his kids, and the whole time he was in Atlanta the family here played along with Lauren and Sheena and Susan and Phil’s lies and manipulations and cons and tormented the man for ever caring about me. In the end it was his destruction. Not me, but he himself, he refused to look past all the smoke and shadows and simply say “No” and dig in his heels and steel his nerves and hold course.

I will admit, Phil is a master at mental manipulation, it’s his bread and butter. The only way to beat Phil is with a mirror. He’s simply not scared of anything else, and he has too many flying monkeys and paid off dirty cops to cover for him when he’s not in town.

In the end it’s not Alex I blame, it never was. I begged him not to show up in court that day. To walk away while he still could and move underground before they destroyed it all and took everything away from him anyways. Sometimes we hold onto the illusions so desperately not because they are right, but because to admit they are wrong means everything else was wrong and glass houses come down in shattered sharp painful pieces.

There is nothing that is permanent in this life. Other than our honor. Even our souls are malleable and adaptable depending on what we allow to either embrace them or poison them.

All I know is that there is very little that he has been through that I have not been through myself and survived. There is the shame period, and the mourning period, and the soul and mental death where one wishes they could die but cannot because honor and promises forbid it. But we all heal, it simply takes time.

I offered him a safe haven at one time, and he spit in my face and called me “gator face” and went off with Sheena, who will ultimately betray him with Phillip, if she hasn’t already.

I say I “wasted the last 7 years”... but perhaps it wasn’t a waste, because without them I wouldn’t be as strong as I am now.

What I do know, is the “family” in Atlanta has some amends to make, and it’s not going to happen if Lauren and her sorority cult and abuse pig Susan keep having their way. No matter how many times I offer those addict lying thief skanks peace they spit in my face and try with “just one more time”.

Where there is no resistance there can be no harm, my teacher used to tell me.

No matter how many times I tell them, try be nice and honorable, the one thing none of you cult pigs across the nation have tried in all these years, they insist on continuing this onslaught and barrage of dishonorable abusive tactics.

“You cannot use shame against a woman who has no shame.” right Dr. S? ;)

So now we’re here, and good luck to all of you if Lauren and psychopath Susan and her dementia are your strategic counsel.

You abuse cult pigs made this bed, now lay down and get comfortable. And don’t bother with the “but he got her a house and puppies”... you abuse cult assholes let Lauren drug me again and take the puppies to the pound and sell the house and have a fashion show after parading me around drugged, filthy, unwaxed, and out of my mind on Phil’s “recipe” and then you made a man I love hand me over a suicide note and I was so drugged I thought it was a love letter and thanked him for it. I will never forget that look on his face. It’s burned in my soul and one of the most painful moments of my life and I will hate every single person that was there forever for allowing that torture. Phil’s favorite torture is the mental kind.

Oh and don’t worry Roy, I haven’t forgotten about you, I’m just too busy with self care and Netflix to worry about you right now. All in due time.