Friday, June 19, 2015


I couldn't think of a punchy title for this post, so I just put down the number of sportsball fanatics that were here in Oakland this morning to welcome back their NBA champions.  This place looks like a shit-hole now.

Anyway, this week has been odd for a few reasons.  One, I learned my stalker is definitely still stalking me.  Second, Dale also spoke to me, in a way.  And third, nine people in South Carolina were murdered by a racist.

"Every fiber in my body hurts."

That's what one of the family members of the church-goers in Charleston told Dylann Roof at his bond hearing via a TV feed, or Skype for all I know.  She went on to say she forgave Roof.  Her mother was murdered by this moron and she forgave him.  And so did most every other family member who said something at the hearing.  "I forgive you."  

The massacre shook me up enough... hearing these mourners forgive this guy who killed their loved ones, today on the Rachel Maddow show, had me in tears.  Those people are real Christians.

Dale had been "liking" and then "unliking" pics I had been posting on Instagram.   I was getting the push notifications on my phone.  The first one I just ignored, and was proud that I did it, because it meant my meds were working, because I'd normally have freaked.  Then another one got the same treatment.  At that point, I thought something funny (well, not funny) was going on, so I posted a totally uninteresting pic... a screenshot of my Xbox One updating.  The same thing happened, again.

I don't know why he was doing this.  I had hoped he had just been liking everything in his feed, and then realizing he'd liked a pic of mine (the other two were interestingish) and deleted the like.  But my Xbox updating?  No, this was on purpose.

This is the kind of thing that can make me fall off the wagon, and I can't let that happen again.  I am doing so good now.  I am healthy.  I think I am making a good friend here.  People like me again, at work.  I'm getting paid the most I've ever been paid (which is still shit for SF, but).  I can't let depression drag me back down the drunk well again.  So I lashed out and told him what he was doing was going to kill me, because, it would.  I won't be able to survive failing again.

I wrote him telling him why and said I hoped he could forgive me one day.  Still no response.  I just think it's odd that these people in Charleston can forgive a cold-blooded killer, but I still get the cold shoulder from Dale, even though I've apologized and asked to be forgiven many times, and even taken the steps to better my life because that's what Dale would want me to do.  But being forgiven, being friends again, that's one step too far, it seems.


And I also discovered that my wonderful old stalker is apparently still on the prowl for me.  Great. What a wonderful life.

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