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Your friend Behr (very close friend - close enough to do frequent "drop bys" internet kiddie slang for coming over without asking and disregarding closed doors), has returned to the aboveground world sponsored by a female noder who has asked her name be held in confidence (because she agrees with me that MANY must be put in Trump Camps after his landslide victory in 2020). I am not living with her because she fears for her clhildren's safety "if a man like you is in our home." I am living with Noder Stan who wrote "Ride a Pony to Clarksville" and "Antenna Jones" for the BBC.

He eats bean sprouts so I slit his throat and took over his home as my new base of operations here in Philadelphia where I am wearing a disguise so the FBI and other agencies don't see me (they think I'm dead because I took out all my internal organs to prove medical science incorrect about EVERYTHING). Ii will not tell you about this because I fear liberals and their shady Soros ilk may be nesting with us. Fucking nesters. I hate them. GET OUT OF THE NEST AND GET A JOB.

That was for them, the leakers, the liberal scum, who pollute our galaxy with their incorrect thinking (they rely on science a lot which has been proven false MANY TIMES).

I am going to the supermarket later today and then to find some bar I've seen Danny DeVito hanging out in on television. It is supposed to be in Philadelphia (where I am now hiding out in a kind of witness protection program while I work to make certain that the good work of the Big Guy from Hades is carried out here in the aboveground world which needs severe discipline. And a lot of it. Whipping adults in front of their children with metal cords that are on fire is what needed to happen SOON or I will lose it. And when I lose it I usually get on an elevator that has one sad looking guy in frumpy clothes and gut him in the elevator to once again prove medical science to be DEAD WRONG.

I have an X-Man type hand with 17 motorized attachments. Lets see your proven false many times "science" explain THAT! It evenually just turns into one of those elves eating salad moments when the pathetic loser "scientists" get down on their knees and beg not to be sent to the camps and I do anyway because GROVELERS MUST ALL DIE if we are to become a great country. The thinning of the herd will begin with grass. Let us kill the lesser things first. If I was president I would declare war on grass and burn everyone's lawns and fields and crap like that and prove we are superior to grass. Then we will begin with various other plants and KILL THEM ALL and then we will consider the fate of trees and shrubs and then we will talk. But you must keep my identity secret as I am on the FBI's Most Wanted list for plotting genocide and murdering my neighbors in a proper exposition of the manifest destiny clause of the US Constitution. I swear to God it is. That is neither here (nor there). We have to move on from those misadventures of the past and plot a new course. If we are to embrace the ideas I hold then we must be willing to express this. We will start with grass. Begin killing the grass now.

I want you all to get hopped up on speed and other chemicals that make you crazy and run through your town KILLING THE GRASS in my name for I am back from Hades!

My friends.

Like I was saying in the Chatterbox last night, I tend to gravitate back to E2 whenever my life goes sideways. So here I am.

This time it's another major breakup. I was supposed to get married this October. My ex-fiance broke up with me for several reasons, the main one being his family hates me and I don't much care for them either. I could have dealt with it had he actually stood up for me, like a significant other is supposed to, but he didn't. He wouldn't set boundaries because he thought it would be disrespectful. I think he was also afraid of the backlash. His folks weren't very pleasant when they didn't get their way. 

That said, I was far from perfect myself. I was reminded of it regularly. I got to hear about how so-and-so thinks this about me, and so-and-so thinks that about me. I should stop trying to write for a living and apply for a government job. I don't make enough money to go on vacation. How am I going to help pay for a house? I spend too much time at home, and I think too much. I'm not talkative enough with his siblings. Even though I know the mean things they say about me behind my back, I should pretend like I don't know about it and act friendly, cheerful, and outgoing around them. Yes, even when I'm in the middle of a depressive slump, I should still act in a way that does not embarrass my fiance. It doesn't matter if I'm ok. It only matters that I look ok.

Since the breakup, I've been opening up to more people and sharing stories I had kept secret. The general reaction is shock. Apparently, he was manipulative and controlling with me. I can see that now. When we were together, I saw it in his family and the way they treated him, but I couldn't see it in him. I wanted to believe he was different. To a certain extent, I think he is different. I believe he's on the edge of realization. Some part of him isn't ready, though, and that's why he and his family accuse all their in-laws of being controlling without any concrete proof. Anything he said or did that they didn't like was automatically blamed on me, and nobody tried to find out if it was actually true or not. Fuck that bullshit.

I've moved back in with my parents. My "career" is at a standstill. I was about to put together my own professional website right before this happened. I don't want to be a contract copywriter or copy editor anymore. I'm ready to take on clients directly. The logistics of moving four hours away, looking for a new doctor, updating the address on my driver's license, changing my phone number (which I still need to do), unpacking, forcing myself to eat every day, trying to avoid excessive drinking, trying to avoid crying, trying to feel normal again — all these things make me feel overwhelmed. Where will I move next? There's not much affordable housing in this town. I should re-focus on my career goals, but my head is a mess. Shouldn't I be back to normal by now? The living room is full of scrunched up newspaper, a result of my half-hearted attempt to re-package my dishes for the storage unit. For the first time in my life, I have a storage unit. I slept until 1 p.m. today. I feel like a loser. 

All I can do is focus on the positive. I just made myself another cup of coffee. My cat is curled up in a patch of sunlight on the floor. My brother lives just down the street, and his problems make mine seem tame in comparison; at least I don't have step-kids who yell rude things at me. I'm supposed to meet up with some old friends tomorrow night. I'm going to make raspberry chocolate chip blondies today and then shove them at whoever will eat them. I might join the local triathlon club and sign up for the bike-swim event coming up in June. I need to schedule a haircut. No, I won't do anything drastic, or at least not to my hair. I plan to lose the 30 lbs I've put on since meeting my ex. At some point, I'll focus on my career again. I don't quite believe in myself right now. I should start planting seeds soon. Tomatoes, ground cherries, strawberries. I need to figure out where I should plant the peas. I'm fortunate that my father is letting me plant some things in the back. I would go crazy without gardening.

The days are getting longer. The snow is starting to melt. It doesn't quite feel like spring, but it's here. 

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