YouFuckedUp,

Chameleons are very peculiar creatures.  They’re very adept at blending in with their surroundings.  They can use this unique skill both ‘offensively’ and ‘defensively’.  Offensively if, say, stalking down a meal.  Defensively if, say, avoiding becoming a meal; just to explain rather crudely.

Parasites are very peculiar as well.  A parasitic relationship is one where an organism (the parasite) benefits from another organism (the host).  In the life cycle of most parasitic organisms, it is a requirement to move on to bigger and bigger hosts until they reach their fully matured form.  Most parasites often reproduce in their final form with what is known as their “difinitive” host.  Sometimes, they will reproduce in an “intermitent” stage; one where they have not yet reached their final form and/or difinitive host yet still can go through those developmental stages in their life cycle.

You, my dear, and many, many others like you, are both.

If it truly helps you to believe I am nothing more than a simple beast, then you think whatever is of use to you.  I know it helps to demonize that which you’ve moved on from.  It’s a psychological tool, positive reinforcement.  It’s almost like an affirmation of sorts.  “I can do it” in the form of “You’re a fucking loser”.

One of a few things happened here.  In one scenario, you actually fell in love, though you, possibly, never meant to, regained your balance and composure, and continued with the life cycle.  In the other scenario, you were very determined to use me as a host, and that’s a very unlikely scenario, as my host persona is very low on the chain; it is, indeed, a springboard.  I’m very much aware of the vast majority of reality around me, despite you most likely being of the opinion I live life in a hazy stupor.  Your bias against, and subsequent lack of knowledge on the subject of, ‘pharmaceuticals’ is no doubt the culprit; though, if that whole ‘Michael’ thing wasn’t a story, that would serve as a reason to close you off to something you may have been open to experimenting with at one point in time.

In fact, if ‘Michael’ is, indeed, real, then it explains quite a lot, actually.  Yes, it would explain the schooling too, and your mistrust of information gained outside of your own experience.  You want to figure out your own head, but you don’t trust anyone else’s opinion.  You’ve got to come to your own conclusion, through information gathered of your own choosing.  I understand that, because I’m much the same in that regard.

This is why I have such a problem figuring out what happened with you.  I can’t tell if the end was you resisting the change, or whether you felt your exit strategy was compromised (because you made mistakes in your ‘untouchable’ plan) and were just scrambling in a panic at that point.  Because there was a fuck ton more than just one text that ended that ordeal.  Now, if you want to maintain your position and cherry-pick of the texts I sent you in that time-frame, that’s your prerogative.  However, and much of my arguments to the contrary are very much hinged on whether what we had together was actually real, the only time I ever went a week without attempting to communicate with you was when you said you wanted to take a break, and a week was as long as I could stand not communicating with you…and that communication is when you left…after a long string of messages on Facebook…where you barely communicated anything…and deflected every question I asked (usually in the form of answering questions with questions).

Honestly, I think your exit strategy was put together haphazardly on top of being compromised.  That’s why the little impromptu searching miffed you.  That’s also why you started feverishly covering everything up, removing every trace of yourself you can confirm (or at least think) I hadn’t seen.  That explains the extremely sloppy break-up.  That would also, to me at least, be indicative of that plan’s origin not being your brain.

That’s the other side of this coin I find rather intriguing.  This is such a messy, multi-faceted affair, and you’re…not messy in the least, but free-spirited and multi-faceted.  Very taken by whimsy and fantasy; the realm of the imagination.  That’s why you read so much.  You love visiting these different worlds; you love the time you live there, in your mind.

And a brilliant mind it is indeed.  I believe we had many a stalemate in our ‘intellectual arm wrestling’ matches.  Aside from an infinite and indescribable beauty, I saw the workings of a very intricate and wonderful mind behind those eyes that shone like the sun when you’d smile.  That sun is gone, by the way.  Your eyes look rather dead and soulless in your newer pictures, even when you’re smiling…which you’re really not doing a whole lot of these days, it would seem.

This new persona is very…”hard”.  I see a lot of anger in your face these days.

I can get up and do right any time I choose, and I often do when I’m not running experiments.  You should know something about this latest experiment though.  Perhaps you remember this part, if you were really paying attention to anything I ever said.  “You’re my last shot”.  After you, there is no “the next girl”.

I did not date anyone, jump into a relationship, and I haven’t even had sex since we broke up.  The only thing I did afterwards you may have found objectionable was going to Psycho Suzi’s (a bar, mind you, not a person’s place or anything) and playing ‘Cards Against Humanity’ with my sister and her boyfriend.  You, on the other hand, moved very quickly.  We broke up on June 27th.  I hadn’t unfriended you on Facebook until July 3rd, when you announced your “date” for the 4th at the beach (and when you noticed my unfriending, I was promptly blocked, only for that block to disappear after a month).

Also, somewhere in this time frame, you created ‘Drew McMacken’.  How do I know this is something of your creation?  Why, exactly, would ‘Drew’ have a Facebook page registered to Your.Name@yahoo.com?  And why has he suddenly disappeared from the face of the Earth?  Should this influence me to doubt your story about ‘Michael’ (whose Facebook profile is still active, interestingly enough, and in the EXACT same condition it was left in after ‘he’ last contacted me)?

Okay.  Let me just tell you this much, okay?  Let’s say you do feel like you’ve moved on to better, and your life is better, and everything is absolutely fucking butterflies and rainbows perfect, and the only trouble is you feel even the smallest smidget of guilt or shame or regret or remorse or whatever about how things ended.  You could have avoided that feeling entirely by just being honest when I asked you “Do you want to break up with me so you can be with someone there?”  Instead of flailing about with the knee-jerk “Why do you have to talk like I’m some kind of vain bitch?” (which I never made any sort of accusation; any statements about you being vain and/or a bitch came exclusively from you, my dear, which kind of showed your hand – you obviously felt who you were leaving me for was more attractive), you could have simply said “Yes” and it would have all been peacefully over then and there.  I had a feeling we were building up to that, and was very much prepared for “Yes” to be your answer.

But instead you flailed about and deflected everything I asked you.  I mean, fucking hell, I know you hate my deductive abilities (you have from the start, I noticed), but when I’m right I’m right.  And you know I’m not malevolent like that; I fucking loved you.  Yes, it felt like I was fucking dying, because it felt like I was going to lose someone I care very dearly for.  Because day after day it felt like you were slipping further and further away, and I kept reaching out to you, fucking clawing at you, basically, and everyday you would turn more and more into a stone statue.

Look up ‘The Fade Away’ by Garfunkle and Oates : That’s what you did…to a T.

The reason I’ve been going through this rigamarole is because none of it made any fucking sense.  You are as consistent as…fuck…I can’t think of a metaphor…the most consistent thing on the fucking planet (except your periods, those have a mind of their own…at least when you keep fucking with your biology by going on and off birth control at random), and then suddenly I’m dealing with the world’s most sloppily assembled cyborg clone for two weeks before the lights go out.  Seriously!  For nearly three years, everyday, you were CC, CC, CC, CC, CC.  Then suddenly, at the end of June, it went CC, CC, CC, WTF, system crash, and then you were gone.

With everything that’s transpired on these pages the last few months I have enough data and evidence, even if it isn’t you, to confirm my hypothesis that love is devicive bullshit wielded against people to manipulate them into a hamster-wheel system of servitude and spending that, ultimately, benefits neither men NOR women (it can, however, be argued that it severely disadvantages men).  On top of that, the social construct of the ‘nuclear family’ contributing to over-population, further straining expendable resources, cheapening the cost of labor (think about this one, I’m not being cruel), contributing to the general unhappiness of the general population, and a host of other problems we’re currently facing.  If it is you, and you wrote both of those letters, then I have evidence to confirm you’re an absolutely terrible human being on top of confirming my hypothesis; in which case, you can say whatever you like about me until you’re blue in the face.  If it is you, and you’ve turned into (or, somehow, always were) the arrogant, judgemental, patronizing, feckless cunt in that letter; good riddance, and fuck you up the ass with a cactus!  Why in the flying fuck would I want to associate with a fellow creature that also eats, sleeps, shits, breathes, and does all kinds of other unpleasant human stuff that views me as a lesser being?

Let’s talk about that, shall we, because I’d hate for you to miss anything.  I did not once degrade you, make fun of you, or speak negatively of your flaws.  Anything you have taken as such has been a clumsy wording of emotion on my part, and/or a terrible mistranslation on your part.  When I said things were making me uncomfortable, the translation of “stop talking about this” or “you’re making me uncomfortable” is your own bad translation.  This is really unfortunate, because I recall you making reference to the ease, yet level of complexity and completedness at which we could communicate with one another.

In addition to all of that, I actively encouraged you to talk about things that you felt you needed to hold back on.  When I brought up, and told you about, my state of emotional being, it was not to blackmail you.  I recall repeatedly addressing how ridiculous and unwarranted my emotional disturbances were, and that I was simply voicing them to relieve that pressure, as well as hoping for your guidance into better headspace, which I had gotten used to as you were quite adept at it, and often did so, without my request, when you felt I may be upset about anything (although, admittedly, that’s my fault).  If you are considering that ‘walking on eggshells’; a.) you never once brought up that you felt that was the environment of our communications, and b.) you never had any legitimate reason to fear voicing your concerns to a man who lived over 900 miles away from you.  You’d convinced me you were a wonderful, amazing woman, and I loved you, yes; I was very much enamored with you, but I would never drive even 3 miles to stalk or otherwise mistreat you.

I recall bringing up my awareness that I was probably having those ridiculous and unwarranted thoughts due to my experiences with girlfriends who exhibited similar signs in the past.  Sweetheart, the sad thing here…the only thing that can save you, basically…is if you were forced to do this.  Pardon the fuck out of me, but the woman is psychotic enough to sic the family dog on her own daughter and cackle while she cowers in fear of the animal.  I wouldn’t put it past her to blackmail or threaten her own children otherwise.  Unless all of THOSE things are stories too!

See, if you go over our history, it is a very compelling story, especially on your part.  And this is why I have my doubts; despite what even the most hardened and veteran sleuth might argue is enough evidence for things to be completely open and shut.  Because, in the story you told, your childhood was much like mine.  You were the chubby girl that got picked on all the fucking time, all throughout school up until you started home schooling; your self-esteem was under your feet when I met you.  It was only made worse by living in the middle of nowhere; although being socially outcast and secluded from the larger world helped foster a rather sterling personality.

Let me highlight one story in particular that doesn’t line up.  You told me that your family was racist; you sister and father at least.  Though I can’t remember the entire phrasing word for word, you said “She probably gets it from my dad; he’s pretty bad.  I remember walking into the room, and Obama was on the T.V., and my sister said “That’s why they call it the White House, not the Black House”.  Now this was very early on in our relationship; before my first visit, hell, I believe even before the first ‘care package’ you sent with the blanket in it, so perhaps this is a detail you would have thought forgotten.

So then how peculiar it is indeed for pictures to show up around Thanksgiving on an Instagram you’d recently created (and thought was hidden, perhaps) of you showing off your tree decorating skills to your new black boyfriend (or is it slightly better because he’s mixed?).  Either you’re making up stories, or you’re going the extra mile to piss somebody off.  Now, it COULD be the racist family, though that would make the picture of him out shooting a gun with your father harder to explain without ending the story with “and that’s how we ended up in the hospital”.  Or it could be the ‘mentally unstable’ ex whose psychological profile features insecurities that could be aggitated by such a thing…right, person seeking a psychology doctorate?  Sure brings that “all the men I’ve broken” quote into a bit of a new perspective.

What, exactly, was it about that response that set you off and “gave you the justification you needed”?

Did you think “Sofi Needs A Ladder” was a jab at you being short?

Did you do what I think you did and Google it, found the song, listened to it, and felt the lyrics were a taunting affront?

Did your lack of comic book knowledge lead you to Google ‘Jack Napier’, and, again, based on the psychological profile of my character in this experiment, you jumped to the conclusion it was a reference to the porn star?  Couldn’t have been Jack Napier, alter ego of ‘The Joker’ from the 1989 Batman movie?  Hell, I even left reference to steer you in that direction.  The Joker’s girlfriend, Harleen Quinzel (a psychiatrist).  Otherwise known as “Harley Quinn”.

On second thought, I think all those references were more than sharp enough to snag your attention.  Besides, if you truly are the arrogant, man-breaking blaggard from that one letter, you’re more Harvey Dent than anything (Two-Face, to save you the trouble of Google).

What, you’re offended I bit back after you condescended to me like I was a special ed student?  Oh, you really and truly believed that whole “coward” line you threw at me?  Or you just never thought there was a spine there to begin with?  Or was this a case of mistaking kindness for weakness?  Now you know why I kept saying “I keep feeling like I need to turn into a raging asshole to get anywhere in this world”.

Darling, I choose not to hurt people, but I am ALWAYS very capable of it.  However, I am also ALWAYS keenly aware that it is not a preferable method in nearly any civilized setting.  Now, I am very fucking good at keeping secrets, and there is one secret I have not told, because it has the power to hurt you very, very badly (provided it’s real), and, regardless of whether you turned into Thundercunt Supreme or not, I have absolutely zero desire to seek revenge or retribution from you for breaking my heart.  I certainly don’t want to hurt you the way this secret can, and I want you to know that I will continue to safely guard this secret.  Because, regardless of your being a psychotic, man-hating whatever the fuck or not, and despite the lives you may rend asunder because of your existence, you still have a right to that existence.

However, I will freely spread about all I have thus far, if only as a warning to all the other men out there who might be oblivious to yours and others like you’s existence.  Some of you are very much out and in existence specifically to manipulate, exploit, use, and destroy men.  There are women in the world that get some kind of sick joy out of watching a man squirm under her stilleto.  And your lovely pal feminism has given me a SMASHING idea.  See, whenever a man tells his story about how he’s afraid of being manipularted, used, and quickly discarded, and he is greeted by the damn near ubiquitous response of “Not All Women Are Like That” (NAFALT), he can now respond with #YESALLMEN.

Because not all women have to be manipulative psychos.  Even if only 10% of women are psychos.  What was the analogy you all rallied behind?  Pour some M&Ms in a bowl; only 10% are poison?  Something along the lines of “would you be afraid to eat a handful”?

You want even more insight into that whole deal?  Go to YouTube and look up a user by the name of ‘6oodfella’.  He’s just recently started a video series titled “Here’s Why Men Are Avoiding Women”.

Want more?  Look up the user Feminism LOL and her video ‘Exposing How Women Manipulate Men’.

Want some literature?  Read some of these books.  ‘The Manipulated Man’, ‘Anatomy of Female Power’, and ‘The Predatory Female’.

Look up a video by johntheother titled ‘Rape Culture-Culture is for You’.

I would also suggest videos by TL;DR (teal deer) and DoctorRandomercam.

By the way, again, thanks for calling me a fucking criminal.  Really appreciate that one.

Still, I have no desire to unleash a secret that could knock you back down where I found you.  Because, despite possibly being an evil, man-hating, manipulative bint, you DID, legitimately, do every ounce of work it took to get to where you are now single-handedly.  I respect that immensely, and I would not wish to be knocked down in a similar manner from any perch I climbed to.  Honestly, I would probably be extremely resentful of the person that would do such to me, therefore, I don’t do it to others.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been poking around and keeping tabs on me.  Trying to get a feel for where my head is at?  Am I actually angry as fuck, and the “I’m okay” is just a front?

None of what you turned into and presented to me makes any fucking sense, at all.

You were being tested, sweetheart.  As you so aptly noted, you have to protect your heart out there, or it can get ‘chipped’, or worse.  If you’re a man, however, you entire life can be utterly destroyed in any number of legally sanctioned ways.  It is because women are legally assisted in their manipulation by a system that holds them in advantage.  No matter whether that system is the courts or society at large; women are put atop a pedestal.

You almost had me, too.  If this was a whole bunch of fuckery from the start, just some elaborate con to sucker me in, you almost had me.  I told you, “I play baseball”.  Three strikes, and you’re out.  We almost made it to strike…I mean…year three.

Here’s why I have my doubts, and here’s why I’ve stuck around and pestered you like I have.  Like I said, when you go through the entire story, everything you’ve ever told me, this ending makes absolutely zero fucking sense whatsoever, even for the stereotypical “scatterbrained due to emotional turmoil” woman trope.  If you are not, in fact, an evil, man-hating, manipulative clowncunt, than there’s only one other thing I can deduce with the information I’ve gathered.  If this is true, I’m sorry I had to do this in public; perhaps we can rectify it with the site admin.  If not, however, boy oh boy, does this make for one fucking rip-roarer of an example.

Your abusive mother blackmailed you, presented you with an ultimatum, or otherwise coerced you into leaving.  My guess would be something along the lines of “If you don’t leave him, I’m going to fuck with your college funding”.  It breaks my fucking heart in two to think you had to endure any kind of mental abuse, and I would have understood you leaving to avoid it any further if you would have just told me it was happening.  Dear God, woman, I don’t know how to stress this enough.  Even if you are fucking Cthulu in disguise, I fell in love with you, and, despite it all up to this point, foolish as it may be, I still do care very deeply for your safety, well-being, and happiness…even still after saying some bullshit like you wish to destroy me.

You being a feminist makes no fucking sense with how highly you would speak of your father.  Fuck, you took pride in people saying it appeared your looks came more from him than your mother.  With the stories you would tell, and the things you would say, you really don’t like that woman.  Here’s why you being a manipulative bint doesn’t make any sense.  Because you said you felt bad for your father because you felt like your mother was manipulating him!

Which is it?  Who are you?  Which one of you is real?

I know, in my heart of hearts, if any of this was ever real to you, you kept my contact information.  You still have my phone number.  I didn’t change it.  If not, I have no idea why you wouldn’t; I have your number memorized.  Text me, or call me; fuck this website shit, especially if you want to take issue with being impersonal.

Here’s the kicker.  Nothing else matters.  I could be 99.99% wrong in everything I’ve said here, and it doesn’t matter a bit.  You are the last straw.  No matter what happens from here on out, I feel I win.

If I’m right, and you were abused, I’m sorry.  I knew something was fucked up, and I told you many times I would do anything I could to help, and so would my family.  I understand that you did what you had to so it would stop.  I understand you couldn’t put together a cohesive story while facing down the proverbial gun barrel.  That, in my opinion, is why it seemed that, for such a brilliantly intelligent woman, our breakup was a soap opera script written by a 5 year old.

I believed you, every single time, when you told me you loved me.  Because your actions were proof of it.  And your actions never once wavered, slowed, reduced, calmed, whatever.  Not until those final weeks when ‘the cyborg’ took over for you.  If it would have ended between us any other way, I most likely would not be here to write this letter, because I can accept “The End”.

Were you relying on my being curious and deductive, and that’s why you ended it so slapdash?  As an obvious red flag that something was beyond fucked up here?  Or did it end that way because you got caught in a lie and paniced?  Because now there was a human being in existence that could send the walls of your perfect paradise crashing down?  And did you really ever feel you had the ability to strongarm me like the person in that letter?

If so, darling, learn the difference between confidence and arrogance.  As the saying goes “Confidence smiles, arrogance smirks.”  You have every reason to be CONFIDENT in who you’ve become through all your hard work, but arrogance is ugly no matter how much you’ve done.  If you made your ascension to the heights you’ve gone to simply to exhibit your spite towards ‘the lessers’ and piss down the side of a mountain than fuck you, I hope you fall, because you rose for all the wrong reasons.  You will be doomed to fail if your means of obtaining success involve deception, resentment, or any other force of negativity.

Perhaps too, a question to ask yourself at this time would be, knowing what I know, why I haven’t attempted to contact ‘new boyfriend’ (I know his name, but whatever) and blow this whole thing up?  How should I put it?  I’m a sniper, not a gangster.  I don’t shoot up the whole block and fuck the collateral damage; I do have a conscience.  I simply take out the intended target, and I only have my sights locked on to you (figuratively, of course, since people like to get hyperbolic with the internet).

Let’s say it was just a sloppy break-up.  Okay.  That’s no reason for me to fly in and fuck things up, is it?  Shit, if you’re still the ‘good girl’ you convinced me you were, then you’re being stellar to this new guy.  The only “crime” you’ve committed is being absolutely horrible when it comes to breaking up with someone.

I can live with that.  But for fucks sake, if you break up with this guy, do it better this time around.

I just want answers, and the truth, as it pertains to you, I, and the relationship we had.  That’s it.  Even if I don’t like the answers I get, it is far easier to make peace with the truth. And, once I have my truth, I’m done.  I’ll move on and disappear into the shadows from whence I came, and you’ll go on living your amazingly perfect life, and all is right in the world.

If this is all the result of some abusive bullshit from outside forces, again, I’m sorry.  I can forgive you for that.  I can give you a second chance for that, because I know how easy it is for people who’ve been abused to be manipulated.  However, while on the topic of manipulation, if you use this as a quick in/out to deceive me for your own benefit.  If I let you in again, after all that has gone on, and you deceive me…God help you.

That is beyond dirty and uncouth.  I would question the idea of you even having a soul at that point.  Think of how much trust and faith you would be betraying in doing that to someone.  To pretty much get caught being a deceptive, manipulative bint, forgiven and allowed back into someone’s good graces on the provision that the worst case scenario happened to them (remember, at this point, you’re claiming your mother abused you), and then you turn around, prove their trust and faith to be a completely unwarranted mistake as you screw them over for your own benefit?  I’m sorry, but the emotional hurt I would suffer from that would be worlds beyond any pain that could be inflicted upon my mind and body in prison.

Enough of the interogation shit.  I feel I’ve made a more than strong enough point.  As far as I’m concerned, one of two things will happen, because one of two things is true.

A.) This is the last communication we’ll share, as I simply refuse to waste any more time on a chameleon-parasite hybrid that wants to destroy me.  A scenario in which I am far better off without YOU in my life.

OR

B.)  You were abused and manipulated into doing as you did, and I will get a phone call or text in the near future, and we will see how we proceed from there.

Anything else that “misses the mark” or “falls through the cracks” is of no care or concern to me.  Again, I said I can be 99.99% wrong with everything I’ve said here, and I still don’t give a good God damn, because if you’re not real, and you’re not with me, I don’t give a fuck anymore.  I am fucking done with the miserable, shoddy, half-assed backwater carnie game this race calls ‘love’.  Go ahead, taunt me with “You’ll die alone”.  I’ve already made peace with that possibility…a LONG time before I met you.  Say anything you want to attack me; every single thing you have said is something I have heard many, many, many times before it was uttered by you.

The only thing you could do to possibly hurt me any further is to kill me, and I await death eagerly.  Not to say I’ll just sit and rot though.  Ehh…quick summary…Read ‘Hagakure’, adjust to the idea of “living as though you are already dead”, and from there on out, only seek honorable ways to die.  For example, what would you feel is more honorable.  Dying in good health on a treadmill in the gym, or dying of poor health, covered in Cheetos dust on your couch?  I think we both know how you’d answer that, especially these days.

If you want peace and resolution, stop reading and take some form of action.  You should have my contact information somewhere.  Even if all you have left is the home address, mail me a letter (though do hurry, I can’t say what would happen to anything sent after June 1st as I won’t be here anymore).

If you are a nasty, horrible, evil, manipulative sphincter polyp, and you REALLY want to say what you said to me…you REALLY think…after everything I went through with you…you can just spew that brand of bullshit…especially after treating me in such a disrespectfully condescending manner?  Like you were doing me a favor or something by “associating with a lesser being”.  What the fuck kind of bullshit was that?  “I’ve got your back”.  Fuck you; why don’t you take the other knives from the block and stick those in my back too while you’re at it!

Sounds like you’re taking your “guardian angel” for granted.

Keep fucking around like this and you’ll soon find yourself praying for a new one.

One last thing I want you to consider before you act here.  Go back to YouTube.  Look up Alan Parsons Project : Sirius/Eye In The Sky, and pay very, very close attention to the lyrics.

Goodbye, friend.  I hope I will hear from you soon.  If not…I Wouldn’t Want To Be Like You (another good Alan Parsons Project song).

Also, you might want to go through your man’s music collection, and see if he has any Young Jeezy.  Specifically, Thug Motivation 101.  Heh…Track 13 – Don’t Get Caught