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Every so often I am reminded of the price that I’ve paid in coming to the West coast. I could say many things about whether or not it was a fair price, or how many years of my life I spent paying tribute to a relationship that yearned to consume and destroy me. I am not innocent in this, but I was naive.  I could explain in graphic detail how my family stood by and watched, praying that I’d extricate myself, or how I ultimately saved myself from torment and unearned guilt. I could tell you that it is much craftier to inflict mental anguish than physical pain, far more hurtful, and damned near impossible to see clearly from inside the trauma. But I won’t. This blog is about my life now and I have no desire to spend a single minute reflecting on past injustices and the mentally ill, or to sling accusations however truthful at past acquaintances.

Every so often I have a spike in readership, and I know that my stalker hasn’t found happiness yet. Every month or so I receive a series of nasty-grams that rant about how everything that I am is directly related to their participation in my life. Everything I think, do or feel is directly linked to their involvement or encouragement. According to my stalker; all that I am, everything that I’ve learned about myself I owe directly to them.

My parents do not make this claim, and they are certainly more contributory of the very essence of my being (their DNA)  than my stalker. My family and friends do not make this claim. I myself do not make this claim. I freely admit that I learn something from every single person I meet, to say it differently would be dishonest.

Few people read my blog. Friends, acquaintances, a few family members who wonder when if ever I’ll write about them and what will I write when I do. I am not famous, or terribly interesting most of the time.  But apparently I am practically impossible to let go of. So difficult that despite separating nearly 3 years ago my stalker cannot prevent herself from sending me little hate notes from time to time just to maintain some form of contact. On the 10th of August I received 6 such notes, and I would like them to cease immediately as they border on harassment, and are intended to hurt me.

If the best revenge is a life well lived, then in that manner only, I am seeking revenge and I mean to extract a full measure of happiness from whatever time I have left on this planet.

As for my stalker, I have no hard feelings, no regrets, and no ill will, and most of all no desire to spend another second thinking or responding to your vague threats and weak allegations.

Please go and create a life for yourself. Go be happy, and please go piss on someone else’s blog.