Mistress Lea, I’m sorry if you don’t want to read this, but I really need to haver to. It’s hard to imagine being filth like some of my neighbors are. Not one person in two hundred. I thought if I just listened to music and ignored people today . . . I love her still, clearly, but I can’t talk about it because then people would accuse me of being obsessed with her and use it as an excuse to torture me. I’m angry, very sad, and frustrated while acknowledging that this is the way my life must go, but I can’t say that either because lies would be woven into those words, and they would be used as an excuse to torture me (worse) for it, So I sat in stoic silence, enduring their cruelty as best I could until eventually, I began writing my lawyer. Ted Miller @ Cooper, Spong, & Davis. I can’t recommend him enough. But, I know, right? These people aren’t even acceptable as human beings. But you’re missing something. “Excuse” is the operative word. They’re a laughing stock, a thing of shame when they accept their place in this world and need to be kicked back into the blood and mud and have their face ground into it when they forget it.
Their final excuse is that “they” — the pronoun was ambiguous when given — was that they wanted to make people to believe that Elaine somehow came out on top. I don’t believe this for a minute since their cruelty began around 4pm and as late as 8pm, her boyfriend spat at me, “All she does is cry and talk about you.” Complete idiots on the loose have reasons they’re just . . . the logic is there, but it’s not valid? They’re sadists and sadists are cruel. I know, I know. I’m not stupid. Sadomasochism is the central strand of love and by torturing me, Elaine and her boyfriend have made me a third party of their relationship, and when I say nasty things or write my lawyer, they get their masochistic trip. They don’t give a damn about each other, likely. They’re just “in it together.” Against me. Life sucks.
So, asked if she “won,” I said she can have points for taking advantage of me if she wants them, though I wouldn’t assign them. She didn’t ask for much at all of what I did, she just needed a lot of it. So, why? Two big things, I don’t think anymore can reasonably be asked of me. I would never believe her that she’d gotten off crack.
So I took a day off everything except showering and, at 1am, it seems they might be through with their eleven hours of cruelty. The last week was rough, more so than the one before it, but the three before that were like a tropical vacation. Not being victimized with hate crimes in my own home at other people’s pleasure. Because I’m a schizophrenic who’s still intent on doing something in this world.
It seems plain that minor psychopathologies cluster towards the lower end of the socioeconomic spectrum. Narcissists and people with OCD hate me. But I remember F Scott Fitzgerald’s joke, “The rich are different. They have more money.” One woman who was flirting with me through the window, a woman who posed in her bikini, holding her law degree, referred to people such as us as “the arisen ones” which made me think she was a Republican. Democrats are more the type to say with a wry smile, “the enlightened ones.” Likely, among more wealthy people, I’m likely to encounter more fear of social stigmatization, and a pettiness that seems to come with intelligence that would lead to smaller nips that don’t run in sprees, but are perhaps more regular.
Mistress? I have to change my locks this weekend because I have some jewelry and it’d probably be gone in four months because of Elaine’s crack smoking. You don’t have to worry about this coming out of my past. What I really want right now, more than anything at all, is for you to feel I’m doing well with all this.
Someone named Miriam — you might have spoken — told me it might be four more months to bring a halt to it. It might take three after that, but my trajectory in life will shoot off when I shake some of the negative conditioning. I’ll never be the person I would have been. It just went on too long and was too constant. The trauma might mostly dissipate in three years, but some of the other changes are permanent. If Ted doesn’t do it as a representative of the trust, I’m going to get $10,000 together and ask to retain him. The information he’s gathered is likely invaluable. He must either anticipate this or be acting on his own. My aunt is the executor and he’s intimated that she’s stealing and her behavior towards me is abusive. Refusing to reimburse me for a special boot for a broken foot that I took out of my food allowance. Quite a number of things like that.
Two lawyers, one middle-aged, one older, moved in as roommates two doors down. Into a $160,000 condo. They don’t work with Ted though they’ve done small things to help, calling him. Are they with the corporation that owns the condo complex? Perhaps. Perhaps my aunt has retained two lawyers full time to install there to determine if I meet the legal definition of insanity when my reality testing is nearly rock solid — not knowing the difference between right and wrong — to deplete the trust? It’s likely the latter. Ted told me that last time he was here, “Don’t press charges. I’ve got her.” He’s probably been gathering evidence for a year. It’s how he thinks. If you’re in the right, get every last domino in place and you’re sure to win when they tip over.
I feel like I can’t do anything right now. And I want you so much. I might be back in a bit.
