The Long Road Out

 My ex-wife pissed on it. We left.   I used to dance. My ex got bored.  I used to be musical. Playing in a soundproof room.  I used to do cocaine alone. To “feel good about myself.” I once was proud.  Ha.  I was sexual before this time. . 

Maybe I can grow again. More space. More plants. Less time with humans who are unidimensional. More psychedelics for learning and growing. Maybe. Simpler life fewer assets. Learn to take baths again. Buy a pellet gun to shoot coyotes. I hate them since one killed my cat. Making Mina learn what she fucked up and fucked over. Dying compromised, like me. Aware of her damage.

How did that happen? I loved so many dearly. People and animals. Now I have some activities and I try to behave. I don't know why. The interactions are not offering meaningful benefits. So strange to be completely isolated now. Perhaps I always was and never noticed? At least since my parents died. I need so much!

That's an easy one: ping pong. Table tennis. We played a lot. During ski season pre-dinner ping pong was a great tradition. And we were well matched. Over hundreds of games I'm guessing pretty close to 50/50 win-loss results. The matches, including long fun rallies, fell into three general patterns. 1. My ex would get ahead early, 2. We'd switch leads several times and often end up in long "win by two" duals 3. I would get ahead early. In the first two categories, we had fun. The third category was a disaster and I dreaded it. My ex would give up. She'd swing carelessly and drop her hands. Her serves would become random. Her face showed how unhappy she was. I'd react by getting sloppy and often a game would go from say 10-2 to 18-18. I usually won because I'd be frustrated by her lack of sportsmanship and would fight back at the end. How unfair. The lesson in table tennis was the same as in our entire marriage: ...

I had Mohs surgery three years ago on a small pre-cancerous spot on my leg. The procedure is intended to minimize scarring. It’s minor, and likely heads off much larger problems. Nonetheless, I still have a purple stain on my leg there which never diminishes.  Similarly, the actions of a dysfunctional marriage caused  the full range of PTSD symptoms.  Shock. Mood swings.  Hopelessness. Anger. My exwife compounded the problem by her own illnesses—specifically she ghosted, blamed and gaslighted me.  To this day, when I think of her, one or more of the symptoms roars into center stage and I am unable to function. I will never be able to form a trusting love relationship again.  It’s 4:04 in the morning and I am angry. I want to tell her how evil she is and instead I just have to send her interest on settlement balances. Talk about money for nothing.  Narcissists rarely receive Florence Nightingale awards, and my ex shouldn’t wait for any caregiver of the ...

 Depression has exacerbated my behavior of leading with empathy. Sick dog?  I cry with you.   It’s crushed excitement.  Hardly an option. I bought a new house for myself this week. Hi-hum. I’ll still be the same depressed guy.  That doesn’t seem fair!  I liked that part of myself. I was always the guy who drove around town to get my soccer team out of bed before a match.  Yes, I liked excitement. Striving for improvement. I thought “Flow” was a meaningful book when I read it. Sexual excitement—so empowering and energizing and happy (except with my ex(.  Business meetings to discuss joint IP!  Partnerships of all stripes. Reaching the top of a new peak. Looking forward to the next trip.  A new pet.  Thrilling—as was living every pet I’ve known.  Then I met my ex. She melted down if I was excited about anything other than keeping her on a pedestal. 

Here's what ChatGPT has to say on that subject: That's a deep and honest question—one that many people wrestle with. What holds someone back from starting their life over can vary, but here are some common factors to reflect on: Fear of the Unknown Starting over means stepping into uncertainty. It's natural to fear what you can't predict—new environments, people, jobs, or even a new version of yourself. Comfort in Familiar Pain Sometimes, even if your current situation is unfulfilling, it's familiar. That familiarity can feel safer than the risk of failing or being disappointed again. Responsibility and Obligations You might have ties—family, financial commitments, a career path—that make the idea of starting fresh seem impossible or selfish. Internalized Doubt Many people carry a quiet, persistent voice that says, "I can't," or "I don't deserve better." These limiting beliefs often trace back to past ...

Of course they do.  These people have spent their entire careers blaming others for their own ineptitude.    Carrion feeders. Disgusting.  The guy is dying.  I think people like Vance and the morons who keep the Democratic Party gutless are the proximate cause.   Ever kick a sick dog, you two creeps? I’m sure this isn’t the first time.    

I was proud of my marriage. Of my NYC home. Of my NYC friends. Of my career. Of my pets! Of what I read and the movies I loved and the uniqueness of my thoughts. Of my athleticism. Of my parents. Hubris… All gone. I feel strongly.  I know grieving. And remorse. And shame. And the decay of my body and mind.   I doubt my ex has any of those parts.  I know she doesn’t think I deserve affection, kindness, respect, care, or the time of day.  I don’t think people who run from others in need deserve respect. Nor do those who laugh at—or ignore—the pain they cause others. The gaslighters. Those whose realities change to align with their Facebook selves.  I talked to my brother last night. His brain is disappearing. He barely can form words and they don’t link. It doesn’t matter. He’s my brother and we don’t need words. His pieces say more than all the false babble and meaningless chatter of my marriage. He’s lost in the static of injury, over prescribed drugs, and t...

I am living in hell. Coyotes won't let me outdoors. My roommate is sick all the time. I had bad friends and my life partner was a vampire.no one can understand the unique terror of living with a woman who cannot experience shame or guilt or grieving. For the record, my anger is the only thing that kept me alive.  (No one understands this other than me. I was alone in a universe of gaslighting.) Pretty amazing I'm still here.  Waking up, trying to get dressed,rarely making headway on any projects. I send a check once a month to an ex who hasn’t treated me like a human I 3 fucking years, and likely much longer.  I resent her money for nothing greed.   I'm having trouble with alcohol. I say 'don't drink tonight" and then I do anyway. And I don't really care. Definitely numbs the pain and the loneliness but it doesn't stop the crying. The last thing I love was stolen from me. I don’t have the capacity for new love because I hurt so much. I got a new ...

It's a $4B company.   OpenAI generates revenue through several key channels, with a significant portion stemming from its ChatGPT offerings and API services. Here's a breakdown of its major income sources: 1.  ChatGPT Subscriptions (Approximately 76% of Revenue) OpenAI's primary revenue stream comes from its ChatGPT subscription services: ChatGPT Plus: Priced at $20 per month, this tier accounts for about 55% of OpenAI's total revenue, translating to approximately $1.9 billion annually.   ChatGPT Enterprise: Targeting large organizations, this plan contributes around 21% of the company's revenue.   ChatGPT Team: Designed for small to medium-sized teams, this offering adds about 8% to OpenAI's revenue.   Collectively, these subscription models provide OpenAI with a stable and recurring income stream. 2.  API and Developer Access (Approximately 15% of Revenue) OpenAI of...

You stole what you have, Don. That's what it's called when you stiff your suppliers, shake down your customers, and lie to the tax authorities. Imagine how much your employees disrespect you. Of course, you hire such rudderless fools. Look at your cabinet Don. Tell me YOU respect a single one. You'll fire them all within six months again. On to another topic, but related. My ex-wife. What a piece of work. I know what it's like to watch someone who is terrified of not being the center of attention. The gaslighting. The disdain for friends and family. The seething resentment when someone succeeds. The inability to recall anything prior to, or after, your last meal. You are morally and physically flaccid. Both of you. You are sacrificing your health in the pursuit of hurting as many people as you can. Daddy issues Don. Daddy issues, Beth.

Trump's "negotiations" aren't victories.  They're humiliating capitulations resulting from self-destructive tactics. Here are two "justifications" for anti-trade tariffs. People who are dumb enough to vote for Trump believe this kind of silliness, as I'll explain in two sentences after this summary:  Reduce U.S. trade deficit:   The trade deficit stood at $122.6 billion in February 2025, with exports of $278.5 billion and imports of $401.1 billion. The non-baseline tariff rates were calculated based on a country-by-country trade deficit, attempting to fill in gaps on an individual country basis. The 10% baseline tariff applies to all countries, regardless of their trade deficit, even for countries with a trade surplus, such as Australia. Collect U.S. tax revenues and reduce the U.S. budget deficit:  The tariffs aim to collect tax revenues and reduce the U.S. budget deficit, which stood at $1.83 trillion in 2024. Estimated a...

"Big Love" is a play by American playwright Charles L. Mee, first produced in 2000. It is a modern adaptation of Aeschylus's ancient Greek play "The Suppliants" (also known as "The Suppliant Maidens"). The narrative centers on fifty sisters who flee Greece to escape forced marriages to their fifty cousins. Seeking asylum, they arrive at an Italian villa, hoping for protection. However, their suitors pursue them, leading to a dramatic confrontation. Ultimately, forty-nine of the brides murder their respective grooms on the wedding night, while one bride, Lydia, chooses love over violence and marries her cousin, Nikos.

She's with you always, in the moonlight and when you touch the earth.   "When my mother died…" by Thich Nhat Hanh   "The day my mother died I wrote in my journal, "A serious misfortune of my life has arrived." I suffered for more than one year after the passing away of my mother. But one night, in the highlands of Vietnam, I was sleeping in the hut in my hermitage. I dreamed of my mother. I saw myself sitting with her, and we were having a wonderful talk. She looked young and beautiful, her hair flowing down. It was so pleasant to sit there and talk to her as if she had never died. When I woke up it was about two in the morning, and I felt very strongly that I had never lost my mother. The impression that my mother was still with me was very clear. I understood then that the idea of having lost my mother was just an idea. It was obvious in that moment that my mother is always alive in me.   I opened the door and went outside. The entire ...

I wonder how I will feel tomorrow but the shock and grieving of the last few weeks—I feel stripped down to nothing—makes me think that I need to make some big strong decisions: —buy a new new car -move my brother here —love my two cats like never before. —Sort out my company in a way that benefits everyone —resolve Diana situation so she gets the clarity from me that she deserves. —seek help from Yael at a new level. —coffee/alcohol? Sugar? Beef for real? —get even with the coyotes who did me wrong.  The foul mongrels.  

 For your birthday, I’m going to be a coke addict and crossdress. And then I’ll masturbate too much!  Just like you told all my friends. And you’ll be an angel as always.  Our friends. I know—you’ll dump them when they don’t adore you correctly.  Good thing you’re just trying to be a good person. Imagine if you admittted to yourself what you really are. If you were honest.  Honestly, I’m just doing my anti-depressants.  Wishing they helped with the grieving. I doubt you’ll think of me today.  But I’m convinced there’s a part of you that smiles when you recall how much pain I’m in.   I’m certain you won’t ever help me, or anyone else  and that you blame us all. Give us some evidence to prove we’re wrong, if you disagree  

 Dear World Leaders: We’re in the deepest shit here in the US.  The guy’s bonkers.  Batshit crazy   Here’s what you can do to help me, and help yourselves:  Stop answering Trump’s phone calls.  Refuse his meetings. Announce major side deals that exclude the US.   Throw the US out of NATO. We suck as a member anyway. Kick us off the Security Council, finally. Refuse to let our citizens enter your country until Trump is voted out.  Do what you did to Kissinger.  Convict him in The Hague. Whatever you want.  Turn your backs on Don for 15 minutes. We’ll get to witness the temper tantrum as he reverts to infancy. Hopefully he won’t kill us all as he melts like the Wicked Witch of the West. I know you need the heroin fix of our declining economy. But so does everyone else. You can replace it in minutes with better multi-lateral trade deals that exclude a broken and selfish country like this one. (I know you’re actively doing this now, with my ...

I perhaps had too much affirmation and affection early in my life. Both growing up, and in my first marriage. Then I ran into Beth, my life partner. She ran a tight ship, by which I mean: 1. Withhold praise 2. 24/7 judgement 3. Criticism of whoever was not in the room, but apparently particularly me 4. Daily expressions of disappointment. 5. Immature social interaction tokens along the lines of the Narcissists Prayer—which results in daily "gaslighting." Examples are "that didn't happen and if it did it didn't matter and if it did I don't mean it." 6. If I was unhappy, it was because I deserved it. Whew. No wonder I was irritable, frustrated, sometimes distant, exhausted, and angry. I was not built for these things, which were abusive, at least to someone full of hope and love like me. Someone who craves and expects connection. I was abused.

I have begun the slow ascent out of depression, but I suffered a new tragic shock to my system last Thursday. This triggered an outflow of grief—the honoring of lost love—beyond anything I have experienced in my life. Or anything in the long strange trip of the last 3+ years. Grieving continues as, Kubler-Ross-like, the first sign of "acceptance" raises a tiny voice. But it has transformed now into something universal, something larger than what can be described, and something that has permeated every cell and neuron of my defeated body. It feels like sacrilege to stand tall, or walk in any form other than a slow shuffle. I can see that the moon, nearing full, is as incomplete as I am, and is broken by my grief. Music has slowed. I just heard "I'll Be There" by the early Jackson 5, and it went on for hours. Melancholy beyond its pop measure since my grief knows I will be alone until I die. No one will ever be here, or there, or anywhere for m...

Here's what a "wedding painter" learned by observing guests over and over.     https://skincontact.substack.com/p/21-observations-from-people-watching This is great writing.  And a reminder that we all lose these skills during a period where we exposed to egotism, childishness, and ignorance on a 24/7 basis. This is what wisdom and thoughtfulness look like.   OK, I can't resist:  Don--how about spending this weekend drawing pictures of someone else's wedding.  Not speaking.  Not grabbing the bride by her pussy.  Just drawing and observing. I guarantee you will have caused less pain by Monday morning than you would have otherwise. Hey, how's Elon?  Still returning your calls?  How's the team doing?  Pretty intellectually stimulating, right?  I mean, for you.

 Don's all busy preening his fur this morning because he talked to Keir Stamler for 15 minutes without drooling. Apparently a few days ago he garbled some garbage about "we don't need trade deals.  People want our market.  We don't care about theirs."  I believe he was on the phone with the Canadian prime minister at that point. Great. We don't need their market according to this sulking child president.  (Eight % of my company's customers are in Canada.  3% in the UK.  I very much appreciate all of you!  Don't listen to the retard, please.).   But, OK, we don't need your business.   How about your respect?  How about your friendship?  How about your help while we collapse as a nation?  While our last gasps of global legitimacy sink into Don's butthole.   Don:  please shut the fuck up.  Stop embarrassing yourself and damaging my business.  You are the worst thing that has ever happened to this hypocriti...

I'm so damaged by a loveless marriage that ended in the same way it started—disappointment, denial, gaslighting and emotional distancing. I have nothing to show for 30 years of my life because of this stain. And now I'm suffering pTSD and depression so not capable of building anything new to replace the loss and the theft. Maybe some day. Makes me thankful that my ex is the only person who hurt me this badly. The one toxic mistake I made. I appreciate the others I've known more now than I would have, compared to my ex. No one in my life is capable of healing me. That's far too much to ask, even from my mental health team. I am a trauma grief depression anxiety machine. My fuel is, sadly, the person I loved most in the world.  As people have said yo me for years, she’s dead to me.  She was absent when needed and her own fuel was harsh judgement, just like her dad.    Ugly fuel. It damages my insides that I can’t find a healthy source  or a technology t...

I'm doing the best I can with AI development, enhancing products and content creation at my data and research company. I'm not overwhelmingly confident. AI is so good already. I see very few places where it's not competitive except regarding clarity of sources. And it's getting better. It's going to take a lot of effort building the dataset. And it may no longer be protectable in a "behind the firewall" sense. AI is fun and the results can empower us all we can understand relations in new ways and minimize repeating obvious mistakes. We can also apply the mathematics of vectoring to see points of statistical agreement between opposing opinions. Most importantly, #responsible AI can introduce us to new trustworthy sources and an easy marketplace to protect intellectual property and compensate the creators. We can use AI to set higher standards of truth when we speak or think or write or engage with the world. Perhaps I won't have to listen t...

 Hey, I’m having a tough time and you have my cash. Would you give me a gift?  It would mean a lot.  No?  Not surprised.  How about a hug?  A kiss?  Didn’t think so. A smile? On second thought cancel that  I hate your smile. the rest of you I disrespect. What a disappointment you are to me.  What a typical cortisol-infused American!  Those who can’t do…coach?  

I know—it's a cliche. We're ugly inside and out. We're loud. We're ignorant of anything that's not in our hands or our wallets. We have no collective memory and we recreate our own narratives daily to make more of ourselves as individuals and as a failed country, than we really are. We're all narcissists. Trump can't remember what his fat fingers typed into his Signal account 10 minutes ago. So it's with some glee that it occurred to me in my previous post that my ex-wife is truly a citizen! She is the perfect American. I marginally facilitated that process, though I'm a bit player. She manifested her citizenship in her own American way. Sadly, I am an American too. Look at me. Sad. Damaged. Irrelevant. Alone. Unable to protect anyone including myself. 

Woke up from a very violent police state nightmare. True murderous intent. I've had a tough week—we all have. This is truly hell in the US right now—and I grimace with shame when I consider the pain and anxiety we're causing to families around the globe. I hope my nightmare is not an omen. We've been armed against ourselves for far too long. Never mind the weapons that comprise the majority of our budget that are aimed at your homes right now. I wish I could say otherwise but violence is who we are now, starting right from the mob in power. They want blood and money. My own life is increasingly disrupted by the slovenly thinking and rude belligerence that defines us. I'd like to think it is not our genetic code, we white Americans. If we're not killed by our own neighbors or government—or simply by some run of the mill psycho with an American flag tattooed on his chest—I hope to be kind and build spaces that offer sustainable safety for whoever I can. ...

My ex is living in my country, my town, and seeing our friends, living on my money. I am living by myself with no friends I value. 3000 miles away from the world I knew for 40 years plus. This is not fair. I don't want any of it back but I don't want her to have any of it. The fact that she's happy, after the violence she perpetrated against me—the hate she spewed—that hurts so much. I want justice I'll never have. The world doesn't work that way, perhaps most powerfully so in the US. I most definitely want her to fall down and embarrass herself. And I want to forget that I ever knew her. I do not want to support her in any way because she's a fraud. Wow I hate her. Shallow as October ice on a Vermont pond. Part II My feelings are based on the ever encroaching self hate I have, much of it the result of 30 years of wanting more attention from my ex and, every day, receiving the message that I was already getting more than I deserved. For a long while...

What do tariffs mean, and what do they tell the rest of the world about us? 1. That we can't win on a level playing field. 2. That our labor and products and services are inferior. 3. That we’re fat and wasteful and need others to help us clean ourselves. 4. That our economy is shrinking. 5. That we are afraid of strangers who are happier than we are, despite our rudenesses.   6. That we cannot be can’t be trusted as a party to any trade or human interactions or agreements that aren't at least partially retaliatory. 7. That we’ve run out of competitive ideas and can't win unless a cinder block is tied to everyone else's chest. 8. That our friends smile in our faces but believe we're a problem that needs to be cured or managed. Eventually they don't return our calls. I wouldn’t return a call from Trump. It’s never anything other than a new headache and a bad oder. I hope world leaders will continue to leave Trump out of their meetings, invi...

It will break or tarnish or dent or discord or discolor or generally turn to shit. That's just the way it is baby. Look at my marriage. I valued it. I was never as good as I thought it was. It's likely not as bad as I believe it was now. But it was a gaslight hell. Punishment every day. Low blows coming at me from all directions. My pets all died eventually. Same with my family. Gone. My favorite homes. Sold. Never to be seen again. I live an unnoticeable life with a roommate. I probably drink too much in the evenings. I don't read or go to movies. I take anti depressants but they don't help. I'm 70 and aging rapidly. I don't like to look in the mirror any more. It reminds me of friendships I've lost, or been disappointed by. There is no part of me that is lovable. Like I said, if I touch something, it's stained and ruined. God I hate myself. Live in a box and disappear. I live in a shitty country that can’t compete without charging t...

 Hi there… Just wanted to remind you that you’ll have to contact me in 27 days to inquire again about payments that I already made to you.  No need to help in the meantime, not that it ever occurred to you..  I still get out of bed most days.   Please desist from referring me to your friends.  They are not involved in my life, or my recovery.  Neither are you, and you can’t outsource your human failure to others.  

  I am not "cra-cra" and I am not crazy. I am in immense pain. I'm trying to get out from under a wall of pain. 

I want to stay in bed all day. I hope I can. There is nothing I want to do, and I am not part of this world now. Silence and solitude. And new sheets—I cleaned and changed the bed yesterday so it's perfect isolation. White sheets. A new duvet cover that's silky Cotten. It won't be better outside. I'm not hungry. I can stay here. My past hurt me so much. My future appears ok but without purpose. No reason now to look backwards where all is lost and the carnage reeks. Or forward, where nothing presents itself to be found.

I may or may not has been the victim of an abusive marriage. I'll never know. I'm almost certain that I was gaslighted for many decades. I was co-dependent on the abuse. But—when the infrastructure collapsed on my family (for the third and final time), the ecosystem that nurtured me earlier…disappeared. Apparently my story then was not of interest to them then. I lived for thirty years without baseline love from my life partner, and an ecosystem around it that disappeared like bubbles when touched. I lived with no love and no access to trustworthy affirmation. Look at me! I endured and persevered through adversity.

My cat was killed by a coyote earlier this week. Ceci was the love of my life and my best friend. I am clinging into bed to sleep in solitude, and now the last mammal I've ever touched is gone.

You've likely found yourself on the dark edge of the wood? Then welcome here, companion. I'm on day 3 of an "instant" crisis (violent death in the family). I'd like to describe a reaction I experienced just now, a part of the torrent of grief. This part felt like it was an unfamiliar visitor. Here's what I believe I heard: "yes, David, you have nowhere to turn." The voice was referring to the fact that my ex-wife who I loved and depended on deserted me three years ago. But then this voice continued: "you have never once in your life faced a crisis with a protector by your side. You have faced every crisis alone, exactly as you are doing now." Couldn't be more true. I had a thirty year marriage with someone who would not put a bandage on another person. I had a sick ecosystem of long friendships all of which locked my abusive situation in concrete. My parents stayed away. It was a great life. That's how co-dep...

Full to the brim with self-hatred. I really do hate myself. This is a terrible meaningless existence. I hate it. I have nothing to look forward to. I have no friends. My beautiful pet Ceci just got killed. I don't want to go outside any longer—this is a nasty place where I live. And look at the US. A country of false arrogance. Empty at the core. Collapsing on itself as it points fingers at everyone else for its own third-world behaviors. I live in a tin pot dictatorship. There is nothing fine or beautiful about the US. Don—you've created the opposite of great. Pond scum? You can't wash that shit off. Hypocrisy and moral turpitude are permanent stains and you have no character. I laugh at your ignorance.

It's not healthy for me to watch assholes benefit and gloat. Why are people like you always overweight? (I know the answer—because you're easily dazed by bright shiny objects. They make you even more blind and you covet every bauble in front of you. Your body is the manifestation of your disease, your lack of will, your spinelessness. Give us your tired and your poor. Let's club them to death. Get it over with. My anger is what keeps sick people like you far away. It is the only protection I have. Think how much angrier you'll be when we all eat the food on your plate and leave you nothing. Little fat pouty baby.

You obviously aren't cutting federal government costs. You're converting revenue from civilian jobs to military contracts for your friends. Tens of thousands of families are out of work and failing based on your graft. Others are dying daily—though primarily not Americans yet. That will likely begin 3rd Q? Americans dying? What's your guess? You are robbing the country, and extorting fees from our ex-friends who disdain you and our corrupt state. You're Roy Cohen's little boy but he'd deny you now too. His other plaything, Nixon, actually wasn't a crook, as you are. You're not clever or original. You're just another on the long list of third world tyrants—the dead will be forgotten, as they always are, and you'll be associated with moral failure when anyone recalls your name.

 Why does the harsh setback of the last two days trigger all the rage, disappointment, grieving and shame of my failed marriage. It’s like everything I’ve learned about moving away from narcissistic abuse fell by the wayside.  Suddenly I’m gaslighting myself—“she’ll come help me while I’m down” and forgetting the crescendo of Narcissist Prayer events that destroyed my wellness and destroyed my capacity for trust, respect and hope. 

If you're younger than say 70 you won't know the environment of moles, illegal phone taps, and arrests we experienced.  The beatings in Chicago and everywhere else. Discovering that your best friend was an FBI informant.  You are learning now. Welcome to the Summer of love, Trump-style:the Cliche in Chief is working the back door.  Justice Dept.'s Criminal Inquiry of Columbia Protesters Raised Alarms Internally nytimes.com The anniversary of Kent State is this week, Don. You will have even more blood on your hands if you don't call off your dogs now.  As far as I can tell, at least a third of your voters are opposed to shooting unarmed students. What are your pollsters telling you?  Are you proud that you were elected by the other two thirds?   Do you give a shit?  I do. We do.  This is your Pentagon Papers buddy. Right here. Today.  I am not filled wit...

 Innocents get destroyed. Bad people natter on about their egos.  I am completely alone without her. I have no purpose.  I am living in a hell of grieving.  Fuck this universe.  

This clue is likely not relevant to all narcissists but it always occurs in the "first in my class" school. These sick individuals can't say thank you because that would acknowledge that you are their equal, if only for a second. This of course is unacceptable. So, for instance, you can attend every "performance," arrange parties in celebration, financially support for decades, and tell them that they're beautiful. Doesn't matter. Why would they say thank you? You're doing the you were hired for. Thanking you for it is redundant because you get the privilege of being with the star. Look how hard this group works to ignore their own flaws. Imagine how terrifying it would be to further acknowledge that they accepted someone's help? Winners don't need help. They need their victims to learn from their endless success. Or take their book jacket photos. Or never tell anyone that they're receiving $10k a month tax free from you. And...

 I wish my plane had crashed.  I wish my house had exploded or burned to the ground.  I wish anything other than what just happened.  This is a horrid evil world. I do not want to be part of this   We are a careless and pilfering society.  There is nothing for me here and I do not want to be part of any of this. I don’t want to touch or be touched. I don’t want to talk. I will not endorse a single thing about the human shitshow.  I can’t explain my pain to you.  It is a pain that extends to the edges of everything known and unknown. It is the absence of the last good thing I had.   I must sleep and escape.  I want to hurt myself to show the world how horrid it is. You are all meaningless to me and I don’t care about any of you  I give all of you and all things the bird. I say fuck you to the disgusting universe. I scream it at the top of my silent lungs.  My heart hurts so much. I have nothing to hold and no center to brin...