Feeds:
Posts
Comments

People’s faces outside of family are stone-cold, maybe they were always this way or giggling almost guiltily. Everything has progressed to straight out-and-out torture. I felt like I wanted to scream and rip my skin off, like I was shaking inside my skin. I felt waves of pain. I was horrified that anybody would actually consciously choose to do that to another living being. I felt how strongly I was hated and vilified and that there was probably no hope. Which is why I think I’ve finally come to the only decision left to me.

I know they are not going to stop hurting me but maybe they will have some decency in other regards. You can’t make people see what they don’t want to see or not see or believe a lie. There doesn’t seem to be any hope of a real life anymore, so I feel like I’m doing the best thing. If I look back at the last almost 4 years, it’s just been a cycling of the same question. Alot of heavy mindcontrol, and then being abused for the outcome of the mind control. I didn’t have much of a chance.

Even the stalking is getting to be too much for me. They now control my feelings, so when I see a stalker, I feel what they want me to feel instead of what I naturally feel, and telling myself it is not real doesn’t help much. It’s an attack on almost every level of my being, thoughts, feelings, words- not to mention the physical assault of words inserted into my head, energy on my body and mind, keeping me from breathing normally, keeping me from thinking normally, forcing me to always, always be aware of them throughout the day. I’m surprised I’ve made it as long as I have but I guess I really wanted to live and I got by on a small amount of hope. That hope is pretty much destroyed now though. And then they just keep hurting my family and using me as an excuse.

Now I’m just worried about the details. I want to get it right, I don’t to be found and put into a mental institution and go through hell there without being able to help myself. So I will still think about how, I still have some time to decide.

People seem excited, satisfied, “We got you”, self-righteous and almost with the air of owning me, casual, completely oblivious to their own part in evil.

I was so sad when we visited the house yesterday. I won’t be able to enjoy it with them and I might spoil it for them. It’s unimagineable the amount of pain they are going to go through. The alternative though seems to be me staring at a wall for the rest of my life and being worse than dead. I would much rather be dead than live the life they seem to have decided is the only life I deserve: one with no hope, love, joy, future. I hope I’m not making a mistake but it seems like too much to ask for: would God really ask me to live in years, possibly decades, of misery, day after day? It’s too horrible. They have allowed me nothing.

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.

Older Posts »