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july 7 2009

I keep being surprised  by how frightened I am sometimes now – I am very aware that I might do this, and soon, especially now that I have figured out how to poison myself without using drugs that are going to be almost impossible to get my hands on.  All-natural. 

They are going to put the ugliest picture of me possible in the newspaper, probably the dmv one.  If they had any shame or deceny they’d leave me alone once I was dead, but that would look more suspicious.   At the very least I’m assuming my sister knows me well enough that she knows I would hate an open casket. 

It’s not going to stop.  Not by any way that I can control.  And who knows even if it comes out in the public during my lifetime, how I will be able to prove it and stop it?  I hope I’m not doing something stupid by deciding to end it. 

I’m in a state of constant pain.  Not to mention that I no longer am in possession of my own life, have no hope of love, career, or success, or even just travelling.  I can barely read.  That’s no life. I mean I can’t even watch TV normally, and I might be able to stomache a life of that but they are not going to allow that either.  I’ve pleaded and it gets no response.  Either they are very much aware that yes, we want the end result of this to be your death, or they just don’t care, or they actually think they will be able to stop it.  Probably #2. 

It’s interesting how people can do this; collectively make the decision to steal someone’s life.  As much as I don’t want to die, I am basicallly dead this way.  And they’ll always have some crazy circular reason to do this which ensures permanent abuse. 

I realize I should have taken better notes, at least written daily in a journal.  I read a recent book by Elizabeth Sullivan called “The Day My Life Changed Forever”, and it paled to what Ive been trhoguh.  No mind control, at least that she’s aware of.  No voices.  No freaky surreal media character assassination and ridicule.   I know I should have.  I have to say it would be more interesting, if not more believable.   No offense though to the author, I think I was just a little bored because everything was pretty darn common to me, especially the end section about bizarre service people who suddenly change personality and do a terrible job or flake out!  Talk about currently relevant: my dad’s fixing up a new home, which he thiniks I will also move into with my mom.   This is going to break their hearts probably.   I wish to God they could at least make my life bearable. 

I guess what I’m going to do is for at least the next two weeks, do the best I can to have a tolerable life.  If it’s really that horrible, then I will make the best assumption I can that 5 years, 10 years down the road, it will be that painful, every day.  This is horrible.  I mean it’s funny how they slowly acclimate you to living at a level of misery that if you were suddenly introduced to would probably end up in your suicide within a few months to a year (well, probably). 

What kills me is the potential, and that I will never had a loving romantic relationship.  I realize now how important that always was to me.  And I believe  now I would have made a decent to good writer with practice and work.

Last decision

I made what I feel is the best decision I could have.  This day is not going to get better, and I’m just going to keep having a variation of the same one, if not worse. 

I really never thought growing up that I would die at 33 by being murdered.  

I’m wondering if there’s anything I can do until it happens that would leave something of value, and if its worth it.  I mean a record of what was done to me.  Partly because of the effects it’s not easy for me to do a lot of things, especially writing.  And I have very little motivation. 

I’m not sure this is the best timing, but there’s really no good timing.  I ideally would like to do it today, tomorrow, but that would involve something like jumping off a bridge.  I really wish that I could get my hands on darvon , or amitrypaline, but I think I can only do that online and the quality might be bad, and, it also will be expensive.  Not eating for 2-3 months will probably be hard.   I really wish three was another choice but I’ve been struggling with this since I was targeted and I think this may be what they had planned for me all along.  It’s terrible, but am I going to stay alive and in pain just to “show them”?  They don’t care, and I’m only going to be hurt if I do manage to do anything with myself such as write.  It’s over.  I can’t b believe it, but my life is really over, and I just can’t overstate how much that grieves me, how much I really don’t want to die.  It gives you a strong appreciation for just how terrible something like murder is.  How ruthless and brutal it is, to actually make the decision to take another living beings’ life, how arrogant and hateful and evil.

june 3 2009

constant back and forth between whether or not I’m going to do this thing.  I rediscovered something I suspect they blanked out of my mind, that I can sometimes “neutralize” the energy that is connected to the forced feeling, thought, daydream, whatever.  I stopped experimenting with this for some reason, but I’m going to start again.  I think it also would be a good idea to start experimenting with physical countermeasures, you never know, something might actually help.  So I think the best thing to do would be o write down all the countermeasures I can think of, looking them up and finding any old notes I may have written on this. 

The worst abuse I’m dealing with right now is by far, the V2K.  It’s interesting because I always thought in the last 3 something years it would never come to this, because it was so terrible.  But it has, so I have to try to find a way to deal, because I don’t have a choice. 

Started Ediets 3 days ago, haven’t stuck to it at all, almost, but I keep thinking I’m going to kill myself which automatically makes me go “screw it” and then I eat something since I’m supposedtly goint to starve myself the next day to death.  Those days are probably going to come again, so next time, I’ll just commit to not going off the diet regardless.  I feel as if my words are being controlled right now.

Today I realized that this site is most likely highly irresponsible.  A journal type , uncensored site like this can only have a positive effect if these abuses were out in the open.  I’m very sorry if I have caused any damage no matter how small, but hopefully I haven’t.  It’s too easy for someone to read what I’ve written and instead of concluding accurately that real torture is causing symptoms similar to mental illness,  decide that I the author am mentally ill, and from that false conclusion that other self-identified targets must also be mentally ill and so the issues of electronic harassment, group stalking and mind control are bogus. 

With love and hope,

eabuse

Tightening the throat muscles of a living being so that they are unable to get enough air is torture.  Doing it for any reason is torture.  You would not do that to a cow, and they are legally killed and put in local supermarkets, but for some reason, my life means less than that of a cow or an any food animal.

Torture is inexcusable and is inherently evil.

Definition of Torture

The Convention Against Torture defines torture in the following terms:

Any act by which severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, is intentionally inflicted on a person for such purposes as obtaining from him… information or a confession, punishing him for an act he… has committed or is suspected of having committed, or intimidating or coercing him.

Well the two above effects are ones I forget to put down but I’m experiencing right now.  The difficulty breathing gives you a feeling like you’re about to have a panic attack, and I can sort of tell where it’s closing in my throat so that I can’t get enough air.  Another effect is this forced unnatural eye widening.  It’s bad not only because it makes my eyes look strange (at least to me they do), but it feels strange, almost like you’re trying to look at something unfocused.

I still have the bad itch, but used something that helps a little:  Tiger Balm.  Smells but it gives a good hot sensation that distracts.  Vaseline does not work.  Vicks might help too.

Unbelievable Depravity

Right now there is a truly horrible, f–ked up deep itch being forced on and under my breasts.  I don’t understand why I keep being surprised by the level of hate and ugliness in this.  Part of the point in doing this is the humiliation I feel if I did succumb and scratch my breasts in an unprivate display; of course, I’m too conceited to deserve any kind of dignity and respect as a living being and need to be “put in my place”.

Scratching doesn’t help anyway as it just comes back and the relief is a teaser so unsatisfying and scary it makes me cry, so I just have to sit here and curse to myself in wonder at what kind of souls these people are cultivating as they do this.

Or is it like the majority of meat-eaters in the world who somehow are able to separate that part of themselves that blindly and unthinkingly is responsible for death, and still may be “good” people.  Just confusing.  Having done this to me does hammer home all over again, hey, evil is real.  Maybe not cartoon, Satan-worshipping evil, but I actually think I’m a responsible, good member of society while I sit here at these controls and torture someone who begs for her life (see Stanford Prison Experiment by Philip Zimbardo).  Routine will get you used to anything?  Daily life is tricky in my own experience, I got used to an emotional abuser and didn’t see him for what he was.  “The banality of evil”.  They should add to that the banality of a new day.

Came back again

Came back from a place where I was sure it was over.  It is crazy how much you really want to live life when faced with it being taken away.  Your mind comes up with all kinds of ways you might be able to get through this, make things better.

I did decide almost suddenly while I was going through this last agony that I needed to be vegetarian, that to have any respect for myself I could no longer if I had a choice be a part of something that caused pain and death to any living animal.   It feels truly horrible to be faced with your own death and to feel completely powerless against it, and to be in that much pain.  How do I know what those animals feel when they know they’re about to die and they’re screaming (which they do), and they are hurting?  My life and my suffering has been judged and weighed to be less than shit by those who are doing this to me, just the same.  I would be such a hypocrite and I wouldn’t have the right to say anything to those who torture me, when I know myself that I have the power to take away suffering from living beings.  I hope I don’t sound sanctimonious, but how else do I say this?  Pain is horrible.  To cause pain to a living being, I had better have a good reason, if I’m going to be able to look at myself.   If I’m going to ignore the pain of another living being, because I’ve been conditioned to think I am better than them or they are inferior, then aren’t I doing the same thing they do to me?

I saw photos of cow carcasses skinned and hanging by their feet in refrigerators and I felt like I almost could know what that felt like, to feel that powerless, to have your death be that meaningless and casual and part of a machine.

I’ve been brainwashed to think of vegetarians as militant idiots so I’m reading what I’m writing and thinking I sound like that, as if just by virtue of comparing your life to an animal’s you must be a moron.  Uggh.

Torture is murder

Torturing a person by causing them endless pain, especially while they beg for their life, until that person feels forced to take their own life to end their suffering, is murder.

What I’m experiencing as of today:

Voices in my head, subvocal and once in a while stereo

Forced Visual effects when I try to sleep and close my eyes, such as in a dream (for instance, a cartoon of Carol Burnett singing and dancing mockingly)

Head pain and numbing, where my normal thinking is blocked (hard to explain, I don’t think normally anymore, or as they call it, “flow”, it’s as if my head is physically and mentally stuffed)

Sometimes Needle pricks,  burning sensation in feet

Horrible itching on breasts

Hateful comments by strangers when I go out sometimes, example “Sterilize her” in insanely hateful Nazi-ish voice at grocery store

Possibly the worst effects now- Forced thoughts, Forced emotions, and Forced reactions.

-These are the worst as they are 1)almost impossible to separate from real thoughts, feelings or reactions unless they are just blatant, 2) they seem to happen at least 50% of the day, which means at least half the day I am feeling something else’s thoughts and feelings, so I may as well not even be present, 3) although everything I experience is very violating and a an attack whether physical or mental, this is an especially thorough rape of my person.  Although I’ve never been physically raped by another human being (although I have once been physically raped by “it”), I would a hundred times rather be raped that way than to continue to live this daily rape of my mind and my soul.

I am tired of being raped every day, every minute of my life and what I am going through, is without any doubt, real rape.  I don’t know what to hope for anymore, as it seems I can’t hope for myself anymore.  I hope my family heals as quickly and as wholly as possible.  I guess all I can really hope for is a miracle.

I hope the perpetrators of this hatred and violence towards me recognize some day what they really did and that they collectively took part in rape and murder, a vicious hate crime of which I had no ability to defend myself and did nothing to bring upon myself.

I hope if their hearts are really that black towards me that they can’t feel or see anything, they at least see the pain in my family and then recognize this evil for what it is.

I hope so much that this comes out in the open, and that all the victims of this ugly, violent, vicious hate crime get some justice and truth.  The world deserves better than this, and I don’t care if that sounds corny or stupid.  Every single person’s life counts, every single person’s life on this earth is sacred.  I have never murdered, raped, or destroyed another human being’s life.  I have never done anything illegal that I could or should be put in jail that I’m aware of.  I have done nothing to deserve my life being taken away from me.  I hope that it has been apparent in this blog how much I don’t want to die and that I feel as if I have been forced to this decision.  Every day my life is stolen from me.  I can’t stand being raped every day like this.  I really don’t know what else I could do.  I’ve begged for my own life and this is what I’ve heard back, literally, from the mouths of strangers in fast food restaurants and stores:  “Do it.”  “Everybody has to die sometime,right?”  And they accuse me of not having a heart.

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