It’s hard for me to update anymore.
It’s not that I don’t want to. If not wanting to write were all it was, I’d just stop blogging. Even with wanting to, I often forget because other things grab my attention.
But it’s just the situation. I have to admit, I’ve got a visitor tracker on this thing. It just tells me IP addresses, which will parse to city and state/province and country and nothing more detailed than that. But I see visitors to here from California who are definitely not me, and I have to admit at least one of them’s suspicious. There’s nothing particular that I’ve been able to identify that sets off my paranoia (I don’t think it’s a condition, per se, so much as just an emotional response), but close to three decades on the internet has sharpened my ability to catch patterns. I swear to fuck, for instance, that one time I was supposedly talking to the girlfriend of a guy friend over ICQ and it “sounded” JUST like him, like he was pretending to be his girlfriend. There are tells. There shouldn’t be tells for visitor hits but hey, maybe there are and I just haven’t learned exactly what they are but am catching them subconsciously. Brains are weird.
I’m not exactly saying anything bad here when I speak of my local situation. In fact, there’s stuff I keep quiet because, well, lunatics, and I feel a mite protective of myself and other people. It really has gotten to the point where you can get into trouble for I-shit-you-not NO WRONGDOING WHATSOEVER. No bueno. So I find myself self-censoring.
But it isn’t even just about anti-lunatic measures. It’s about me having feelings and not wanting other people to weaponize them. And not wanting to make things awkward or uncomfortable. And not wanting people to think I want to take things away from them.
It’s maddening, because my life really is interesting now, at least sometimes — and in a good way, too. I’d love to leave some kind of record of it.
I don’t know if I can figure out how to do that.
Some of this is PTSD, too. I got harassed a lot the last time around. I’m terrified of shit happening again.
I hope, wherever my former tormentors are, they’re fucking proud of themselves. Know why I only seem to ever bitch about politics? You assholes wouldn’t let me talk about anything the fuck else. Stop saying you want something when all you ever do is work against it happening. Jesus fucking fuck.
All that aside…
…I’m getting very, very fond of someone.
I’ll say no more than that. You know the phrase “slow your roll”… this is me rolling real slow so I have time to figure out the situation first. Given my track record, there’s a 90% or better chance that I am misreading said situation.
Because that’s something else the assholes did to me. Made me doubt everything I thought I knew.
I’m better, but I can’t say I’ve forgiven. I probably never will.